"No good, mate," he responds, "I get too brainy might muscle you outta a job then I gotta find someone else with a steel toe when there's a cunt needs kicking." It's light-hearted enough, but she's probably right that he needs to start thinking about what a life might look like. Sure as fuck won't be book clubs and yoga studios, but he should find something. There has to be something he'd been good at before.

Nope. Nothing he can think of. The only things he remembers from his childhood are very much like his adulthood. Maybe he'd wanted to be a writer or something. Answers to these questions might only be uncovered in intense therapy, and that's never going to happen.

"What else you got?" He smirks.