He's never been entirely above his vices, but it's odd to consider. Drinking is rare since his son came, and never to inebriation. Then again, this guy will probably tell Greg he doesn't have a kid. Not a legitimate one, at least. That thought makes him shudder.

"I've got you..." The fog does lift, ever so faintly, as he listens. Vague memories, here and there, of touring, partying, working. "Our manager... she's gonna kill me if I can't play." He mutters it, more of a vague realizationthan aanything concerned.