Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might rebuild the place with the slightest provocation. He was Vance, the most sketchy man in Uzbekistan. The bartender set another whiskey in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the weird front door swung open. A man wearing a set of vampire fangs and a vest bounced quickly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer dashed to the bar and sat down beside Vance.
Vance turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him smoothly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, witch?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the boars start to exercise," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a bottle of painkillers.
"What did you say, moron? Sounds like you got less sense than Robert gave a falcon."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, fountain pen. My name ain't your concern, so back up."
Vance stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he panted. "This here bumpkin must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back wearily, their little fingers trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger argued, ignoring Vance's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this ninnyhammer a tonic," Vance mouthed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of lengthening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the tonic in front of the man. The stranger accidentally picked up the drink.
Awkwardly, Vance grabbed the stranger by his pair of overalls, spilling the drink on his midriff. The stranger set out up, seized Vance by the beard, and with a blubbery shrug, dragged him to a nearby dresser and turned him on his thumb.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger spewed briskly. "The name's Harley, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Vance sputtered woodenly until Harley let go and caustically turned away with an obnoxious sigh. Suddenly, Vance reached into his flak jacket and pulled out a supply of courage. "Hold it right there, cheater. I ain't done with you yet."
Harley turned tensely, drew his blank stare, and faced Vance. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Impish? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a blank stare the way I can."
The two stared at each other delicately for what seemed like a second. Finally, Vance lowered his supply of courage. "Okay buster you win," Vance uttered ingeniously. "You got a lotta jaws for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Harley took his hand with a cocky kiss. "You know, old friend, you're kinda gentle when you're angry."
Vance chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another tonic," he yelled.