He spun around the room a few times, then rolled up to the desk and beat out a fast rhythm on it with his hands.
I presumed the cadence was from one of his band's songs.
"Jesus, you're wound up today. You get lucky last night?"
"I get lucky every night, Collins."
"Whatever. Your demon mask was more believable than that."
"Okay, maybe I am not getting lucky every night right now, but that's going to change. The group is getting fucking amazing."
"I've always thought you guys were fucking amazing," I stated loyally.
Wilson shook his head, dark eyes almost feverishly bright.
"Oh no. You can't even believe it now. We got this new drummer, and suddenly . . . it is just like, I don't know . . . we're doing things we've never done before."
I frowned. "Because of one drummer?"
