Past a certain point in this profession, you stop being afraid of the imposing and intimidating types. The "drop 'em in the harbor" types quit fazing you. Hired goons and hitmen might as well be a stiff breeze for all they accomplish.

But to hear that man so calmly describe exactly the way he's going to "beat the devil outta ya," as he strokes the little baby squirrel that he keeps in the pocket of his paint-flecked button shirt. The way he explains the little cabin in the woods, the happy little trees hiding it from view, up in the mountains where nobody goes, least of all the cops or any other family-men... it's unnatural how serene he is, as he tells you how you're going to disappear. And that just makes the man all the more terrifying.

There are no mistakes, around him.