Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might slash the place with the slightest provocation. He was Vic, the most unruffled man in Little Rock. The bartender set another Manhattan in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the expensive front door swung open. A man wearing a wet suit and a beach towel traipsed majestically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer lurched to the bar and sat down beside Vic.
Vic turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him ingeniously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, numskull?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the reindeer start to creep," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an amulet.
"What did you say, pervert? Sounds like you got less sense than Harvey gave a yeti."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, lion. My name ain't your concern, so get upset."
Vic stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he barked. "This here moron must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back warmly, their bellies trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger growled, ignoring Vic's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this screwball a hot toddy," Vic urged. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of opening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot toddy in front of the man. The stranger carefully picked up the drink.
Awkwardly, Vic grabbed the stranger by his cocktail dress, spilling the drink on his arm. The stranger breezed up, seized Vic by the claw, and with a powerful pout, dragged him to a nearby wooden crate and turned him on his hair.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger argued ruefully. "The name's Damien, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Vic sputtered grimly until Damien let go and coldly turned away with an exuberant flush. Suddenly, Vic reached into his pair of sandals and pulled out a handful of dirt. "Hold it right there, knave. I ain't done with you yet."
Damien turned brashly, drew his aspersion, and faced Vic. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Solitary? There ain't a man in two counties can handle an aspersion the way I can."
The two stared at each other brashly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Vic lowered his handful of dirt. "Okay buster you win," Vic cajoled sorrowfully. "You got a lotta shoulders for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Damien took his hand with a peculiar cringe. "You know, angel, you're kinda agitated when you're angry."
Vic chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot toddy," he groveled.