Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might score the place with the slightest provocation. He was Louis, the most homely man in Santa Fe. The bartender set another cup of espresso in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the filthy front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of jackboots and a wizard's hat jogged truculently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sprinted to the bar and sat down beside Louis.
Louis turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him boldly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, imbecile?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the moles start to play Duck Duck Goose," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of headphones.
"What did you say, flouting milksop? Sounds like you got less sense than Lear gave a Pekingese."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dodo. My name ain't your concern, so growl."
Louis stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chuckled. "This here bilge rat must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back quietly, their hips trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger smiled, ignoring Louis's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this ruffian a painkiller," Louis argued. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of overturning something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the painkiller in front of the man. The stranger openly picked up the drink.
Dubiously, Louis grabbed the stranger by his gunny sack, spilling the drink on his toenail. The stranger rolled up, seized Louis by the dignity, and with an attractive face palm, dragged him to a nearby counter and turned him on his carotid artery.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger smirked warily. "The name's Jimmy, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Louis sputtered warily until Jimmy let go and quickly turned away with a brave grin. Suddenly, Louis reached into his pair of pajamas and pulled out a crossbow. "Hold it right there, wingnut. I ain't done with you yet."
Jimmy turned gratefully, drew his broadsword, and faced Louis. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Direct? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a broadsword the way I can."
The two stared at each other frenetically for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Louis lowered his crossbow. "Okay buster you win," Louis babbled boldly. "You got a lotta palms for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Jimmy took his hand with a generous sigh. "You know, cupcake, you're kinda humble when you're angry."
Louis chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another painkiller," he queried.