[Blarg]

He had some standards, reflected in his not wanting to deal drugs and wanting to have meetings be conducted decently when tensions were high, in not throwing his weight around and interfering in Connie's marriage, and in not ordering a murder of the mortician's daughter's rapist, but merely a savage beating. He drew lines.

But he was also compulsively what he was. The boogeyman scaring the little kid in the garden was him reverting to type, inescapably and stupidly what he was. A man of both intelligence and practical wisdom, but a flawed and corrupted heart.