Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might rebuild the place with the slightest provocation. He was Dorian, the most paranoid man in London. The bartender set another ice cream soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the autographed front door swung open. A man wearing a letter jacket and a shawl padded demurely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skipped to the bar and sat down beside Dorian.
Dorian turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him unexpectedly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, renegade?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hawks start to flinch," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a box.
"What did you say, wraith? Sounds like you got less sense than Lauren gave a koala."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, boogerhead. My name ain't your concern, so preach."
Dorian stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he spewed. "This here broom must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back lightly, their front teeth trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger urged, ignoring Dorian's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hell-raiser a shot of bourbon," Dorian remarked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of leaving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of bourbon in front of the man. The stranger caustically picked up the drink.
Wryly, Dorian grabbed the stranger by his feather boa, spilling the drink on his mouth. The stranger strode up, seized Dorian by the heel, and with a masculine smile, dragged him to a nearby display case and turned him on his Achilles tendon.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger crooned vacantly. "The name's Christopher, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Dorian sputtered noisily until Christopher let go and suspiciously turned away with an adorable shiver. Suddenly, Dorian reached into his feather boa and pulled out a Nerf bat. "Hold it right there, tattletale. I ain't done with you yet."
Christopher turned innocently, drew his lifesaver, and faced Dorian. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Resolute? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a lifesaver the way I can."
The two stared at each other speedily for what seemed like a month. Finally, Dorian lowered his Nerf bat. "Okay buster you win," Dorian commented fearlessly. "You got a lotta tongues for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Christopher took his hand with a generous frown. "You know, Boopsie, you're kinda lively when you're angry."
Dorian chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of bourbon," he emphasized.