Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

They were in public, Molokov reminded himself through the red haze. They were in public and he could not shoot this upstart American brat, no matter how much he wanted to.

"How very American," he managed to say, forcing a smile. "Projecting all kinds of tricks and delusions of conspiracy on a simple gesture of goodwill and trust. If that is your line... well. I know Anatoly very well, much better than you, and he is not so hard-hearted as that."

He paused, spreading his hands in resignation, knowing a lost battle when he saw one. He had to hope that Walter would be more successful with Florence, as much as it galled him. "This is a game, a minor game at that. If he prefers this to take precedence over people, then I suppose it is his choice. He is the one who will have to live with it, not I."