It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t mean it. It doesn’t matter that he’s secretly quite a sweet, vulnerable person who is gracious to those he considers friends. It doesn’t matter that somewhere in the rhinestone-rimmed hamster wheel of his mind is a conscience. It doesn’t matter because the harm he does is real.
I infer from this passage the “secret” and begrudging acknowledgement of some highly strained sense of “friendship” is shared. And I predict in the times to come, such a humane bond may be as valuable to the cause of humanity as it is despicable to your very human sense of self.