Tammy bit her lower lip and pouted at the ground. "I sure am sorry, Mr. Matsumoto. You sure have done an awfully good job of creating a major open-source programming language whose engaging and baroque frameworks put the the spartan utilitarianism of Python to shame, but I don't seem to be able to find enough money to tip you for your--" her tongue darted out momentarily "--services."
Yukihiro set his case of de-magnetized screwdrivers down on the desk and folded his sweat-dappled arms over his broad, barrel chest. "That's all right, miss." He stepped forward and began stroking her cheek, grinning widely. He took hold of her chin with one of his rough, callused, workman's hands, tilting it up towards him, and tapped her trembling lips with the index finger of the other. "I'm sure we can find some other way for you to...pay off the debt."
#6
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