El desafío de Fiura

Ya van un par de veces que me olvido de mi promesa de Positive Reinforcement. Fiura me lo recuerda con su habitual salero y/o gracejo :

Está disculpado, Master. Como acto de contrición debería ofrecer a la platea femenina algo como para... endulzar la vista, digamos. (Usted ya +/- conoce nuestros gustos). Desde ya, muchas gracias.

PD: Y con alguna moraleja, frase célebre, proverbio, algo. Aunque más no sea, alguno de los aforismos que vienen dentro de las Fortune Cookies. Qué le parece? =)

Ahura van a ver si este criollo arruga en las bravas.

Con ustedes, Grant Bowler. Actor en True Blood, Ugly Betty, y próximamente en esta sala, interpretando a Hank Rearden en Atlas Shrugged.

Francisco looked silently out at the darkness. The fire of the mills was dying down. There was only a faint tinge of red left on the edge of the earth, just enough to outline the scraps of clouds ripped by the tortured battle of the storm in the sky. Dim shapes kept sweeping through space and vanishing, shapes which were branches, but looked as if they were the fury of the wind made visible.

"It's a terrible night for any animal caught unprotected on that plain," said Francisco d'Anconia. "This is when one should appreciate the meaning of being a man."

Rearden did not answer for a moment; then he said, as if in answer to himself, a tone of wonder in his voice, "Funny . . ."

"What?"

"You told me what I was thinking just a while ago . . .”

"You were?"

". . . only I didn't have the words for it,"

"Shall I tell you the rest of the words?"

"Go ahead."

"You stood here and watched the storm, with the greatest pride one can ever feel, because you are able to have summer flowers and half naked women in your house on a night like this, in demonstration of your victory over that storm. And if it weren't for you, most of those who are here would be left helpless at the mercy of that wind in the middle of some such plain."

"How did you know that?"

In tune with his question, Rearden realized that it was not his thoughts this man had named, but his most hidden, most personal emotion; and that he, who would never confess his emotions to anyone, had confessed it in his question. He saw the faintest flicker in Francisco's eyes, as of a smile or a check mark.

-- Ayn Rand, "Atlas Shrugged", Chapter VI