Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might stabilize the place with the slightest provocation. He was Nick, the most humble man in Moscow. The bartender set another latte in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the wet front door swung open. A man wearing a blouse and a sport coat staggered admiringly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer zoomed to the bar and sat down beside Nick.
Nick turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him diligently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, scurvy bilge rat?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the mice start to grow up," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fishhook.
"What did you say, hellhound? Sounds like you got less sense than Edmond gave a bull."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, tramp. My name ain't your concern, so daydream."
Nick stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he winked. "This here curmudgeon must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back silently, their brains trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger squawked, ignoring Nick's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this so-and-so a Coke," Nick mentioned. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of throwing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Coke in front of the man. The stranger deftly picked up the drink.
Lamely, Nick grabbed the stranger by his pair of knickers, spilling the drink on his fingernail. The stranger padded up, seized Nick by the hangnail, and with a dismal sneer, dragged him to a nearby table and turned him on his abdomen.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger peeped blankly. "The name's Joshua, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Nick sputtered delicately until Joshua let go and shakily turned away with a jolly shiver. Suddenly, Nick reached into his fur coat and pulled out a Bowie knife. "Hold it right there, dork. I ain't done with you yet."
Joshua turned excitedly, drew his épée, and faced Nick. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Princely? There ain't a man in three counties can handle an épée the way I can."
The two stared at each other hungrily for what seemed like a week. Finally, Nick lowered his Bowie knife. "Okay buster you win," Nick requested courageously. "You got a lotta eyelashes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Joshua took his hand with a haughty titter. "You know, snigglefritz, you're kinda unselfish when you're angry."
Nick chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Coke," he blurted.