I made it a point to make him uncomfortable--extremely uncomfortable--at random intervals as the need arose. Occasionally I would prompt the conversation when usable subject matter failed to procure itself. I mentioned to him in an almost bored monotone, "A spider got into the house today; legs and all it was about the size of my palm." "What did you do with him?" he asked, face contorted into a topographical map of concern. "I lured him into a bag and let him outside... you know I often think about what it would be like for one of them to crawl up your nose in your sleep and make an egg sack in your sinuses," I trailed off. As he hurriedly left the room, body trembling and hands shaking off invisible arachnids, I pondered whether I was 43% or 59% evil.