Nobody

He had that cowardly kind of foresight that might cause him to do good acts, so long as they required next to nothing of him. To him, logic dictated that such acts might pad his future well-being. In a void of ethics, a helping hand extends, but it is the hand of a salesman seeing a chance to make a pitch; it is the hand of an insurance agent. Too dull to warrant a diagnosis as alive with fearsome implication as sociopathy, he was simply a con-man too lazy and unadventurous to con, an opportunist inverted – less concerned with intercepting fortune than avoiding ruin.

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