"That sounds demeaning and sarcastic." Rekker is momentarily glad Bjorn has hounded him about his medication or this might have made him angry. "Yes, well, my research is my livelihood, isn't the best response to someone talking about their own livelihood. You're coming off sounding like mine is better than yours."

Rekker was old and he'd heard a lot of people through the years talk down on people who were musicians, as if it was a waste or a place for people of low intellect or low control. He didn't linger but thought it best the kid knew how a musician, or anyone in the arts probably, would hear those words.

"Academic review boards get fired for lies. Music critics get praise for them." Rekker went on eating because he knew that was true. Gossip was praised in the critics of his field and everyone thought their opinion was truth.

Rekker smiled and shrugged while eating. "It not always safe for me to act on my impulses for adrenaline."

He learned long ago that some moods might have him wanting to see what something truly dangerous would be like, or when the voice in his head was whispering too loudly about death. "You come across as someone wound too tight for that kind of fun?"