Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

Anatoly's grip on his knight tightened and for a few long moments, red haze obscured his vision as he fought to control his reaction and keep his temper. Showing any sign of emotion would play right into Lionel's hands and he could not allow that, not for a moment.

"Perhaps you are not aware, Mr. Luthor," he spoke calmly, as if he was remarking on the weather, "That in professional tournaments, players do not speak while playing the game."

He paused for a moment then continued, still very pleasant. "Of course you are not, by any stretch of the imagination, a professional player. Perhaps it is asking too much for you to be silent and play only the game on the board."