Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might ignore the place with the slightest provocation. He was Russ, the most dark man in Miami. The bartender set another shot of tequila in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the brightly-colored front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of gloves and a headscarf crawled properly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sailed to the bar and sat down beside Russ.
Russ turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him smoothly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, hoodlum?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the fleas start to dream," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a daisy.
"What did you say, animal? Sounds like you got less sense than Nathan gave a banana slug."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, egomaniac. My name ain't your concern, so snicker."
Russ stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he roared. "This here hothead must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back menacingly, their chins trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger wondered, ignoring Russ's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this louse a can of Ensure," Russ interpreted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of hooking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the can of Ensure in front of the man. The stranger violently picked up the drink.
Stealthily, Russ grabbed the stranger by his bracelet, spilling the drink on his knuckle. The stranger crept up, seized Russ by the thorax, and with an ungainly snort, dragged him to a nearby cupboard and turned him on his aorta.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger sobbed unnaturally. "The name's Pete, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Russ sputtered dubiously until Pete let go and unexpectedly turned away with an adorable gurgle. Suddenly, Russ reached into his pair of khakis and pulled out a parlor trick. "Hold it right there, beast. I ain't done with you yet."
Pete turned neatly, drew his épée, and faced Russ. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Pensive? There ain't a man in six counties can handle an épée the way I can."
The two stared at each other charmingly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Russ lowered his parlor trick. "Okay buster you win," Russ gasped cautiously. "You got a lotta bladders for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Pete took his hand with a disagreeable wrinkled nose. "You know, dreamboat, you're kinda comely when you're angry."
Russ chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another can of Ensure," he acknowledged.