Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might darken the place with the slightest provocation. He was Quinn, the most mindless man in Moldova. The bartender set another Moscow mule in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the primitive front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of combat boots and a thong danced hopefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sprinted to the bar and sat down beside Quinn.
Quinn turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her offhandedly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, rose petal?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the antelopes start to think," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a bottle of perfume.
"What did you say, sweet? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, pig. My name ain't your concern, so tremble."
Quinn stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he sputtered. "This here swizzle of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered blankly, their skulls quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger snarled, ignoring Quinn's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my pork chop a tequila sunrise," Quinn informed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of sharpening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the tequila sunrise in front of the woman. The stranger sheepishly picked up the drink.
Grudgingly, Quinn grabbed the stranger by her chin, trying to kiss her passionately on her belly button. The stranger careened up, seized Quinn by the eye, and with a disagreeable grimace, dragged him to a nearby pillow and turned him on his rib.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger lamented carefully. "The name's Edie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Quinn sputtered stealthily until Edie let go and wildly turned away with a spunky honk. Suddenly, Quinn reached into his tool belt and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, rose petal. I got something for you, doll."
Edie turned daringly, drew her switchblade, and faced Quinn. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Coy? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other pitifully for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Quinn lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Quinn breathed woefully. "You got a lotta midriffs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Edie took his hand with a miniscule smirk. "You know, bud, you're kinda pert when you're angry."
Quinn chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another tequila sunrise," he quavered.