"He was either a lovelorn tragic hero, or an idiot who couldn't keep it in his pants, depending on how you want to look at it- which is is a little bit true of a lot of guys. But basically- it was a day like this one, you know? Grinding. Gruelling. I cast until my nailbeds cracked. Then, Mayakovsky came in with a tray for my lunch, and a glass. He poured exactly two fingers of vodka into it, drank the first finger himself, then gave it to me, and when I'd swallowed it, he just belted me, slapped, right across the face."

With Quentin's ear for nuance, he recreates the man's accent down to practically the part of the continent he's from;

"Zhat is for doubting yourself."