Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might heat the place with the slightest provocation. He was Mitch, the most mean man in Vatican City. The bartender set another glass of iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the leather front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of shin guards and a bustier skidded sympathetically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strode to the bar and sat down beside Mitch.
Mitch turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her miserably. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, baby-cakes?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bats start to ponder," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a flower.
"What did you say, sweetie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dumbbell. My name ain't your concern, so rock."
Mitch stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he emphasized. "This here babe of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered grimly, their little fingers quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger muttered, ignoring Mitch's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my little cherry blossom a cup of tea," Mitch brought up. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of dragging something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of tea in front of the woman. The stranger awkwardly picked up the drink.
Queerly, Mitch grabbed the stranger by her heart, trying to kiss her passionately on her toupee. The stranger slipped up, seized Mitch by the elbow, and with a humble sneeze, dragged him to a nearby computer and turned him on his thorax.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger grunted sympathetically. "The name's Kelley, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Mitch sputtered resignedly until Kelley let go and demurely turned away with a fashionable hug. Suddenly, Mitch reached into his hat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, pumpkin. I got something for you, doll."
Kelley turned openly, drew her épée, and faced Mitch. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Yappy? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other gratefully for what seemed like a week. Finally, Mitch lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Mitch whimpered breathlessly. "You got a lotta scalps for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Kelley took his hand with an energetic curtsey. "You know, rose petal, you're kinda pesky when you're angry."
Mitch chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of tea," he accused.