[she blankly stares at him, silent for a moment. This man, this cocky bastard was foreign to her. And here he was, strutting his stuff in front of her; expecting her to be amazed or whatever shit like that.

With the blink of an eye, her hand whips up and unsheathes her knife in a fluid motion. Stepping forward, she jabs at him, aimed for the shoulder!]

You're not my son.

I'm afraid you've confused me with my reflection. You see, from what I've gathered, the other Bosses that I have spoken with are pure, and wish nothing but unity and whatever other bullshit pacifism ideals they hold. Me, on the other hand, desires nothing more then a little bit of...well...chaos. I want corruption. I want to watch whatever little social order that exists here to curl in on itself and burn. Give me anarchy.