[He nods and gets up to dim the lights, leaving just enough to work by. That definitely helps, but he still rummages in the fridge for a beer to nurse while he goes back to his seat. Hair from the dog and all.]

Checks out, that's something I could do pretty well... I worked on a fishing boat back home. This, uh... this old man, Bill Gordon, gave me a job when I moved into New York. I was seventeen, obvious mutant, couldn't land an interview with these damn scars on my face... so he just gave it to me on the spot, figured I needed it and I was either gonna quit or make it worth his while.

[He hesitates.]

You can stop me if I'm rambling, I know none of this fucking matters.