Chekhov POV:
SORIN: Do you know, my boy, I like literary men. I once passionately desired two things: to marry, and to become an author. I have succeeded in neither. It must be pleasant to be even an insignificant author.
TREPLIEFF: [Listening] I hear footsteps! [He embraces his uncle] I cannot live without her; even the sound of her footsteps is music to me. I am madly happy. [He goes quickly to meet NINA, who comes in at that moment] My enchantress! My girl of dreams!
NINA: [Excitedly] It can't be that I am late? No, I am not late.
TREPLIEFF:[Kissing her hands] No, no, no!
NINA: I have been in a fever all day, I was so afraid my father would prevent my coming, but he and my stepmother have just gone driving. The sky is clear, the moon is rising. How I hurried to get here! How I urged my horse to go faster and faster!
Tim Gunn, Celebrity Beta POV: [coughs discreetly, waving his crisp linen pocket square to get Chekhov's attention, whispers]
Chekhov POV: Um, ahem, what? But is this not The Sea-gull? For it says so, right at the very top!
Tim Gunn, Celebrity Beta POV: I'm a connoisseur of your entire catalogue, Mr. Chekhov, but trust me, this isn't the audience you should be canvassing.
Chekhov POV: My mistake ... BRB, working on angst fic.
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