Vivian was staring at the screen on his laptop, sitting on the couch on a nice, lazy day. He had just received an email from a Jack Thompson claiming to be his son. He was feeling speechless an confused as he was pretty sure that he never once had any kids....did he? He look. He tried to rack his memories for any answers and this was usual an he usually had a pretty good memory. He could tell you right on the spot how many people he'd apologize to after he became a decent person and how many times he actually had sex which was only a couple of times at the mental hospital. He was pretty sure of that. He decided that perhaps the age would jog his memory so he asked his alleged son how old he was and the reply came back not 5 minutes later. Vivian had been waiting in anticipation and a little bit of nerves. It was surprising a bit to get a reply that fast. It was when he looked at the age that te memories suddenly came through. It was sometime after he escaped, and judging from the age of 32, he surmised he must've been in his twenties. And now he remembers more clearly on what happened, it probably was on one of those days after stealing someone's that he would walk into a bar. Early on he would try and chat up the ladies in an effort to date an this lead to the love and being cared for he so craved. He met one girl who he thought he had a chance with and she invited him to his house where they both agreed to have some fun at so to speak. They both drank some more alcohol and it was hazy after that. All he remembers next was waking up to an empty house and the money he stoled the day before gone. He doesn't remember the name, but apparently she was a petty thief as well. "Claire?! Claire?!..." He shouted as he just couldn't keep his eyes off the screen, the newfound information slowly making it's way into his brain. He wasn't sure how to react to this, except anxious and shocked, "Claire?....Claire I became a dollar like my daddy was..."