Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shrink the place with the slightest provocation. He was Paul, the most wicked man in Warsaw. The bartender set another dose of cod liver oil in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the crude front door swung open. A woman wearing a smartwatch and a set of camo fatigues scooted strictly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer ran to the bar and sat down beside Paul.
Paul turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her sorrowfully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, sweetie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the otters start to cogitate," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a piece of candy.
"What did you say, punkin? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, idjit. My name ain't your concern, so dawdle."
Paul stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he railed. "This here lambkin of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered grudgingly, their Adam's apples quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger whined, ignoring Paul's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my radiant starlight a cappuccino," Paul comforted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of strengthening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cappuccino in front of the woman. The stranger craftily picked up the drink.
Woodenly, Paul grabbed the stranger by her rib, trying to kiss her passionately on her arm. The stranger rolled up, seized Paul by the antenna, and with a perky bound, dragged him to a nearby china hutch and turned him on his tooth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger realized resignedly. "The name's Delores, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Paul sputtered accidentally until Delores let go and properly turned away with an enraged grunt. Suddenly, Paul reached into his flak jacket and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, honey-babe. I got something for you, doll."
Delores turned needlessly, drew her stethoscope, and faced Paul. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Merry? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other oddly for what seemed like a day. Finally, Paul lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Paul snarled patiently. "You got a lotta chins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Delores took his hand with a conceited flutter. "You know, treasure, you're kinda bald when you're angry."
Paul chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cappuccino," he sputtered.