Frank: The day we stop lookin', Charlie, is the day we die. Move. Charlie: Where? Frank: You know where, son. Don't be coy, Charlie. This woman is made for you, I can feel it. Goddamn beautiful, isn't she? Charlie: She's not bad. Frank: Whoo-Bingo! The boy's alive. Come on, son. Perambulate. Perambulate. 《Scent of a Woman》— Al Pacino