John Nash: Hello, Martin.
Martin Hansen: Jesus Christ.
John Nash: No. I don't have that one. My savior complex takes a different form.
Nash: Well, Martin Hansen. It is Martin, isn't it?
Hansen: Why yes, John, it is.
Nash: I assume you've gotten quite used to miscalculation. I read your pre-prints. Both of 'em. One on Nazi scientists and the other one on, uh... non-linear equations, and I'm extremely confident that there's not one seminal or innovative idea in either one of them... Enjoy your punch.
Nash: It looks like you won after all.
Hansen: No. They were wrong, John. No one wins.
Nash. Who's winning ... you, or you?
Hansen: You scared?
Nash: Terrified. Mortified. Petrified. Stupefied... by you.
Hansen: Cowards, all of you. Come on. Whoever wins, Sol does his laundry for the semester.
Sol: Does that seem unfair to anybody?
Bender: No, not at all.