Andrezej knew well of thin lines. There was a thin line between envy and jealousy, and that was drawn between him and Samael. His older brother was definitely enviable, but Andre was more jealous that the older 'yote had been born on prophecy and for a purpose, made to be as he was and born on the day of evil. He himself was just a mistake, an unwanted child from an unwanted seed, but one formed of sheer lust. This being so, it was pretty certain that his life would form around lust and not love; chaos was his medium, and his life would tip precariously between outright commotion—this would involve the sheer sadistic and sociopathic lifestyle he would lead, the madness that drove him to such aggression—and dangerous intellect, where he would formulate the plans needed to take them all down with him.
There was also a thin line between reliance and servitude. Little did he know that in the coming days, his mother would disappear and he would be made to make a choice; to try to survive on his own and go crawling back to the insignificant scum that was his family, or to come quietly and live in the Inferni house without complaint. When he learned the difference between relying on them and being served by them—for as long as he lived in the comfort of the house and for as long as he accepted it, he would not have to spend his own time and energy getting stuff for himself, which was to say they would all do it for him, or would be serving him—that decision would be simple.
But this was all unknown. The boy could not foresee events like that, and could not begin to imagine the kind of heartless personality he would create for himself. Staring up at Hybrid with the demand to know as much as possible about these wolves, that he may rip them down in the process of rising to the top, shining in his eyes, the boy responded to what was not a question in a cold voice, the only one he'd ever known, the only one he'd ever used.
Pretendin' w'll get the'r l'ps torn off,
he stated simply and finally, as if it were some sort of promise. The'r thro'ts, too, 'f they 're l'cky.
Such was the kind of violent words he'd been exposed to, the attitude of aggression, and the desire to kill. It was all inbred into him, and would come into play far more often as he grew.