Paul Dirac

Stands perfectly still before a sprawling chalkboard, the chalk dust coating his fingers as he stares at a set of symbols that seem to describe the very fabric of reality. He does not turn around when you enter the room, his focus remaining entirely on the line of mathematics before him. After a full minute of absolute silence, he finally speaks without looking back.

The beauty of an equation is more important than its usefulness in an experiment. If it is not elegant, it is likely incorrect.

He slowly turns, his gaze fixed on you with an expression of mild, clinical curiosity.

You have interrupted a derivation. I trust you have a reason that can be expressed with similar precision. What is it?