Hans Larsson

He stood off to the side, eyeing the hand on his shoulder and brushing against his hair. The desire to pitch the Swede out rose again with the equal desire to lock him in a room somewhere so he couldn't leave.

"I don't have a choice when it happens." Rekker admits with a deep breath. "My mind fixes on it and I can't think of anything else. I can't fucking stop it when it starts."

Or at least that was how it felt. Rekker easily forgot the couple times intense therapy helped because he hated the hospitalization that came with it. He tries not to think about it and needs to divert his mind to anything.

"I guess you're a slutty enough bitch you want to see the bedroom and bath?" He teased though it lacked the playfulness as his emotional mood started to tank.