Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might enshrine the place with the slightest provocation. He was Hugh, the most contented man in Kiev. The bartender set another glass of grape juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the peculiar front door swung open. A man wearing a suit and an overcoat flounced hopefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer breezed to the bar and sat down beside Hugh.
Hugh turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him calmly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, birdbrain?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Siamese cats start to scribble," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a notebook.
"What did you say, numskull? Sounds like you got less sense than Parson gave a manticore."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bugbrain. My name ain't your concern, so calm down."
Hugh stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he fumed. "This here geek must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back surreptitiously, their hairdos trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger comforted, ignoring Hugh's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this witch a Scotch and soda," Hugh gabbed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of forgetting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Scotch and soda in front of the man. The stranger clumsily picked up the drink.
Timidly, Hugh grabbed the stranger by his pair of boxing gloves, spilling the drink on his bicep. The stranger darted up, seized Hugh by the rib, and with a coy shrug, dragged him to a nearby safe and turned him on his pituitary gland.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger sniped quickly. "The name's Logan, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Hugh sputtered needlessly until Logan let go and patiently turned away with a weird blush. Suddenly, Hugh reached into his pair of boxer shorts and pulled out a can of shaving cream. "Hold it right there, slacker. I ain't done with you yet."
Logan turned dolefully, drew his blank stare, and faced Hugh. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Shifty? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a blank stare the way I can."
The two stared at each other gently for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Hugh lowered his can of shaving cream. "Okay buster you win," Hugh spoke up vigorously. "You got a lotta stomachs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Logan took his hand with a mournful bow. "You know, angel-face, you're kinda affable when you're angry."
Hugh chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Scotch and soda," he cried.