this is a real gentleman

Stuart: It is no more crazy than a dog finding a rainbow. Dogs are colourblind, Gretchen. They don't see colour. Just like we don't see time. We can feel it, we can feel it passing, but we can't see it. It's just like a blur. It's like we're riding in a supersonic train and the world is just blowing by, but imagine if we could stop that train, eh, Gretchen? Imagine if we could stop that train, get out, look around, and see time for what it really is? A universe, a world, a thing as unimaginable as colour to a dog, and as real, as tangible as that chair you're sitting in. Now if we could see it like that, really look at it, then maybe we could see the flaws as well as the form. And that's it; it's that simple. That's all I discovered. I'm just a... a guy who saw a crack in a chair that no one else could see. I'm that dog who saw a rainbow, only none of the other dogs believed me.

Gretchen: I believe you.

[Leopold and Charlie leave the club. Charlie is fuming because Leopold has enthralled Patrice, Charlie's love interest]

Charlie: And I would have gotten her number if you hadn't turned the evening into a guided tour of the Louvre!

Leopold: My apologies.

Charlie: Let's get one thing straight. Patrice, she thought you were cute - probably gay, and cute - and cute, Leo, that's just the kiss of death.

Leopold: Perhaps.

Charlie: Perhaps? Certainly!

Leopold: [produces a napkin] I believe this is her number.

[Charlie takes it from him in disbelief]

Leopold: As I see it, Patrice has not an inkling of your affections, and it's no wonder. You, Charles, are a merry-andrew.

Charlie: A what?

Leopold: Everything plays a farce to you. Women respond to sincerity. No-one wants to be romanced by a buffoon. Now, that number rings her.

Charlie: Yes?

Leopold: So ring her tomorrow.

Charlie: I can't. She gave the number to you.

Leopold: Only because I told her of your affections.

Charlie: [taken aback] Wha - what did you say?

Leopold: Merely that you admired her, but you were hesitant to make an overture, as you'd been told she was courting another.

Charlie: Shit... that's good! Well, what did she say?

Leopold: She handed me the napkin.

[Charlie rushes under a lit store window to read the napkin, and starts dialing his cell phone]

Leopold: Charles, it's quite late.

Charlie: No, no, she won't be home yet. I get her machine and leave a message, ball's in her court.

Leopold: You're ladling calculation upon comedy. The point is, to keep the ball in *your* court.

Charlie: [slaps his phone shut] You're right! You're right!