He listened and chuckled, just the once, and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Ja. I is does on thats a lots." He knew he'd been a dick to the doctor - he always hated doctors anyway. He shrugged it off as just the doctors being overprotective of their greatest asset, and only now that he wasn't the be all and end all of guitar and music in general, he realized that it wasn't just being a meal ticket.
He looked up. "Goings to be fine, just a bit hard to deals you know? Nothings I ain'ts deals with whole lots of times before." He leaned back and took a long drink of water. "I fuckings wants a goddamn smoke. Is whats I wants." But he'd gone and given all his cigarettes to Pickles - Valhalla knew that the goddamn Drummer could fucking smoke all he wanted and he wouldn't have any adverse effects. Lucky son of a bitch.
"I tells on de little mes to comes to trains with you when he cans. I suggests vury highlies dat you is makes him, no matters whats he is says on abouts it. He ain'ts a parts of Dethklok yet. You ain'ts gots no ties to obeys on him, you can still tells him whats to does." He smirked then, "And if you still is thinks abouts it, is doings me a favors in de longs runs? Hn?"