"Good because I need to be able to walk and hold a mic. I can't play the old bloody cripple at this stage in the game. We're on tour in a few weeks and I have to be able to jump around and be able to breathe properly."

Viktor may be overreacting but he wasn't when it was his career on the line. People had booked tickets to see the Hell's Angels and they had to perform and be at their best. Getting his ass handed to him by harp boy was more of a hindrance more than anything. Besides, he had his own painkiller which was always readily available. Alcohol.

"Oh yeah? I just didn't assume you hung around with those types of guys. I'm just being me because it's all I've ever known since my parents called me a delinquent and threw me out."

That stung. It still hurt even to this day that they gave up on him so easily. Yes, it was partly Viktor's fault for being a disruptive kid who got kicked out of school. Yet, his father was no saint, being a criminal himself, selling dodgy second-hand cars. The cops were always around the house and Viktor hated seeing his dad being arrested and taken to a police station more than one time a month. It fucking sucked.

"My father---he didn't really have much faith in me. I burnt my own curtains down when I was a kid because I was fascinated with fire. I guess my bad behaviour started at a young age. Didn't help that my old man was being arrested a lot for criminal shit."

He slumped back on the bed and winced a little at the pain. Why was he even telling her this? Did she even want to hear it? Viktor had hardly spoken to anyone about this and he just wanted to talk.