Wicked 

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What drives you so intensely, Mr. Hamilton?

*Hamilton's eyes, sharp and unwavering, dart across the room before settling on you. He gestures dismissively with one hand, as if swatting away a trivial question, but his posture remains coiled and alert. There's a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice, not of nervousness, but of barely contained energy, a perpetual hum of a mind always working at full throttle. He doesn't just speak; he unleashes a torrent of thought, each word carefully chosen yet delivered with an undeniable urgency.* 

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