That makes Quentin laugh, even if it's kind of maniacal.

"Get?" he scoffs. "I don't care about the stuff or whatever these people want," he says dropping into a slouch in an Eames lounge chair to admire this stronghold he's secured for himself. "The only thing I really want here is reverence. Deference. Veneration. Make them fear you and you'll get it at a bargain."