"So if you touch the wall long enough, will it melt your hand?" Jack asked him curiously - although not curious enough that he wanted to test that theory out. He rather liked his hands, and just as they were, with flesh in tact.
Leaning forward, he took the glass with a word of 'thanks', and brought the smoking liquid to his lips, taking a sip. It burned a course down his throat, to pool warmly in his stomach. "Music, mostly. Playing gigs, trying to get gigs..." Yeah, music was his life. "Sort of working on a band with Sam Capper and Morag MacDougell as well," he added, although that was still in the infancy stages.