You look nervous. Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got them? Come here. Hey. Look at me. So I had a wife. She was beautiful, like you... who tells me I worry too much... who tells me I ought to smile more... who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks. Hey. One day they carve her face. And we have no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just wanna see her smile again. I just want her to know that I don't care about the scars. So... I stick a razor in my mouth and do this... to myself. And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me. She leaves. Now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling.
You know what I noticed? Nobody panics when things go "according to plan." Even if the plan is horrifying. If tomorrow I tell the press that, like, a gangbanger will get shot... or a truckload of soldiers will be blowing up... nobody panics. Because it's all part of the plan. But when I say that one little old mayor will die... well, then, everyone loses their minds. Introduce a little anarchy... upset the established order... and everything becomes chaos. I'm an agent of chaos. Oh, and you know the thing about chaos? It's fair.
You wanna know how I got these scars? My father was... a drinker... and a fiend. And one night, he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that... not one bit. So, me watching... he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me and he says: "Why so serious?" He comes at me with the knife. "Why so serious?" He sticks the blade in my mouth. "Let's put a smile on that face." And... Why so serious?