Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might fortify the place with the slightest provocation. He was Hoss, the most sketchy man in Croatia. The bartender set another hot chocolate in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the abnormal front door swung open. A woman wearing a wristwatch and a pair of Crocs flew crossly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer careened to the bar and sat down beside Hoss.
Hoss turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her hungrily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, mopsy?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the kangaroos start to drool," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a tablet computer.
"What did you say, pork chop? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bandicoot. My name ain't your concern, so hiccup."
Hoss stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he boomed. "This here turtle dove of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered carelessly, their antennae quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger maintained, ignoring Hoss's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my cupcake a glass of papaya juice," Hoss argued. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of flushing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of papaya juice in front of the woman. The stranger uselessly picked up the drink.
Confidently, Hoss grabbed the stranger by her chin, trying to kiss her passionately on her little toe. The stranger blundered up, seized Hoss by the stomach, and with a wily coo, dragged him to a nearby billiard table and turned him on his eye.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger rambled threateningly. "The name's Emily, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Hoss sputtered sourly until Emily let go and reluctantly turned away with a bubbly titter. Suddenly, Hoss reached into his Hawaiian shirt and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, little chickadee. I got something for you, doll."
Emily turned kindly, drew her billy club, and faced Hoss. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Amiable? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other anxiously for what seemed like a century. Finally, Hoss lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Hoss rumored wearily. "You got a lotta arms for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Emily took his hand with an impish smack. "You know, love, you're kinda crazy when you're angry."
Hoss chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of papaya juice," he hollered.