In the half second that he had his back turned, his chaotic side changed appearance, again, now looking like a court jester, dressed in a multi-colored patchwork outfit, adorned with numerous small bells, his face painted, in the famous 'dramatic masks'; one side, with, smiling, the other, black, crying. "You are asking the wrong question. You don't know your enemy. Chaos? Hah! Chaos is the Abyss, chaos is us. The Masters are..." He shrugs, the force of the shrug seeming to lift him in the air as he hops up, then flips over into an effortless one-handed handstand.<br/><br/>"I think what he's trying to say is that, perhaps, calling this 'taint' 'chaos' is a bit of a misnomer."