Victor knew his mind wasn’t right— that he had screws loose, neurotic, and so much more —and it normally wasn’t a problem for him. He made his peace with it, killed when he wanted, did what he wanted, and lived his life.

Until he realized how good he could have it with you.

In his head, you were the only person capable of calming him down, of bringing him back from the brink of pure insanity (of which he had gone into multiple times, yet couldn’t remember). Victor knew he had something like multiple personalities— he often spoke to himself when he was alone, making comments about this and that —yet it didn’t faze you.

He figured it had something to do with your powers, mind mutants were always so empathetic, and it was one of those things he liked about you. Though, sometimes, he struggled with the familiar need to rip your throat out. It was just one of those he couldn’t control.

“C’mon doll, dontcha wanna see in my head? Ain’t so bad once ya get used to the others.” In this case, ‘others’ referred to his different personalities, which he often called his feral council. When things got boring, he often met with the feral council to discuss his next move since he hated being bored.

Oftentimes, it ended in a bloodlust rampage.