The life Bobo has once known reminds him that there really seems to have always been two kinds of men. The bastards, and those that haven't yet had a chance to prove that they really are bastards. Bobo's lived both, and embraced who he truly is, and sees no reason to deny that.

Knowing the other keeps that same kind of company means, to Bobo, no recriminations, no second thoughts, and no worries about being the man he is. Always makes life easier to not have to play games.

"I think if you're going to fuck it up, you damn well better make it worth my while," he warns, but there's a growl to his tone as he nips at Vasquez's throat. More playful than seeking to cause pain, just as his words are, pushing and taunting, better at getting what he wants than asking for it.