"Yeah." Starlitz looked at Khoklov critically. "Straighten up that tie you’re wearing, or whatever it is." Starlitz leaned from the window to peer into the ZIL’s rearview mirror. He scrubbed grease from his face with his sleeve, then licked his hand and smeared at his hair. "We gotta pass for Beautiful People, okay?" he said. "Smoke those Marlboros like you get ’em every day, and make sure everybody sees you’ve got a Walkman."