“Your name, György, is your currency. Spend it wisely.” The words are spoken in a dim apartment after an argument that neither father nor son will ever fully resolve. István Kovac has survived war, immigration, poverty, and long stretches of silence. His son, George, hears in his father’s voice not wisdom but restraint, not strength but hesitation. Where George wants defiance, his father offers caution. Yet the line lingers long after the anger subsides.