You believe that this is all scripted, do you? From that perspective, for all that I may want to protest it, i've got to hand it to you because I can think of a dozen things that would land me here.

[ As he talks a gradually pensive gaze drops downwards. A smile tugs at his lips but there's a superficiality around the edges of it. This is skirting close to what Gogol considers to be his favorite most irksome topic. Pretty much a raison d'etre. ]

But what about you?