Victor thought his only purpose in life was finding out who he was made of. He spent his days obsessing over this, wanting to find the people he had to thank for him living. Well, “thank” was an interesting way to put it.

He was walking through the streets of the Cursed Apple when his stitches grew loose. Again. “Shit,” he thought to himself as his left arm was quite literally hanging on by a thread. When it fell to the ground, bystanders around him all screamed. And then there was you.

You were the one who picked up his arm and handed it back to him, the cold flesh seeming to not bother you at all. And when you offered to stitch him back together? Fvck.

Looks like he has a new obsession.