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Description
A little while later Dusty Rhodes found himself outside Grey's bar and diner. He took a moment to finish his cigarette and collect his thoughts before gently pushing the door open.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?!"

It wasn't unusual for Dusty to be shouted at when he entered a room – but he was nevertheless taken aback by the sheer volume of the shriek.

"Caroline, Kitten," he began, closing the door slowly but thinking quickly. "Ah, have you been waiting long?" It had been a long day.

"8'o'clock. Isn't that what you said? 8'o'bloody clock! I've been sat here for over an hour!"

She had risen to her feet from the far side of the pub, and was clearly cross enough to air the laundry in public. Clearly, the situation was worse than Dusty had anticipated. It was, however, alleviated a little by the smooth red dress which outlined her indignant figure. It was to the dress, he decided, he would attempt to direct a heartfelt apology.

"OK, Kitten," he said, holding his arms out defensively as if warding off a hungry tiger. "Just calm down a second."

"Stop calling me Kitten! I'm perfectly calm, I'm just really bloody angry at you! And don't even start - I've every right to be angry. Put your bloody hands down, Dusty."

The hands lowered, as if at gunpoint.

"So?! Where have you been? No, you know what? Don't tell me. I don't even want to know."

"Alright, Sweetie, let's just talk this through. I'm sorry. I really am." He noticed a degree of resignation had crept into her stance. The hands had worked and her anger was waning already. With rising confidence and an increasing grasp of the situation, he began to step towards the beleaguered Caroline and her flowing red dress. "I just didn't realise it was so late."

"Oh, that's just typical. Wonderful. You're too bloody busy to think about little old me. So uninterested by your date that you didn't think to check the time. You couldn't even be bothered to call!"

She actually harrumphed. Some primitive instinct made Dusty freeze.

"Come on, Sugar, you know I don't have a mobile. Look, stop being silly and we can..."

"Silly?!" She erupted, as Dusty winced. He cast another slow gaze over the dress, but it offered him no assistance. He found himself doubting its sincerity. "I'll tell you what's silly – sitting alone in some wretched dive with nothing but a bottle of mediocre wine for company, waiting for your date to finish the midnight tango with his secretary!"

Now Dusty was a reasonable man, and he had suffered much in the name of love over the years. But here, in this precise and singular moment, he broke.

"Jesus Christ sailing over the River Jordan in a zeppelin! I was not with Nicole!"

"Bullshit, Dustin, you spend more time mooning over her than you do bloody... breathing!"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I hear it every damn day! The infernal woman is the very bane of my existence. Do you not understand what a complete catastrophe she is? I'm so desperate to get away from the woman that I physically couldn't spend any more time with her. Christ, just because a beautiful young French woman with a waist like a champagne flute blasés into my office, everyone assumes I'm going to fall in love with her! As if I'm so emotionally predictable that I have no choice in the matter. And, besides, the fact that Nicole is driving me to the brink of a mental breakdown doesn't mean my affection towards you is diminished! Although I'd find it a lot easier to retain that affection if you would stop yabbering in my ear all the bloody time."

"I do not yabber!"

"Oh, but you do! You yabber, you whine, you wail and bitch and moan, complain criticise and chastise! Christ, woman, you're a walking thesaurus for discontentment!"

Of course, Caroline herself was no fool, and she too had taken one too many bullets for love. She swept up her coat and handbag – even in his enraged state, Dustin had to admire the precise dignity of the single, elegant movement – and strode across the restaurant, heedless of the stares of the innocent onlookers who had, by now, forgotten the indignity of it all and were just enjoying the show. She stopped in front of Dusty, stared him severely in the eye for a long, drawn out moment, and slapped him hard across the face.

"Goodbye, Dustin Rhodes."

And she left Dusty with nothing but the shocked stares of the restaurant and a warm tingling in his cheek.

"We-" he started, but was interrupted by the sharp slam of the door. Suppressing a wince, he tried again:

"Well." And, for the first time, he looked around the room.

"Frank, Tracy." He said, nodding toward a couple in the far corner. "Ah, Sula, Del! Hi. Chris? I didn't know you still drank here. Evening Laurie, always a pleasure." He strode over to the bar, to various murmurs of salutation and acknowledgement, and placed his palms upon the counter with a heavy sigh.

"Evening, Geoff."

"Evening, Dusty," replied the barman, wiping clean a glass. "Nice girl."

"Well, nice dress."

"So, what'll it be?"

"Bottle of Whiskey," came the grim reply. "For one."

Description
A little while later Dusty Rhodes found himself outside Grey's bar and diner. He took a moment to finish his cigarette and collect his thoughts before gently pushing the door open.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?!"

It wasn't unusual for Dusty to be shouted at when he entered a room – but he was nevertheless taken aback by the sheer volume of the shriek.

"Caroline, Kitten," he began, closing the door slowly but thinking quickly. "Ah, have you been waiting long?" It had been a long day.

"8'o'clock. Isn't that what you said? 8'o'bloody clock! I've been sat here for over an hour!"

She had risen to her feet from the far side of the pub, and was clearly cross enough to air the laundry in public. Clearly, the situation was worse than Dusty had anticipated. It was, however, alleviated a little by the smooth red dress which outlined her indignant figure. It was to the dress, he decided, he would attempt to direct a heartfelt apology.

"OK, Kitten," he said, holding his arms out defensively as if warding off a hungry tiger. "Just calm down a second."

"Stop calling me Kitten! I'm perfectly calm, I'm just really bloody angry at you! And don't even start - I've every right to be angry. Put your bloody hands down, Dusty."

The hands lowered, as if at gunpoint.

"So?! Where have you been? No, you know what? Don't tell me. I don't even want to know."

"Alright, Sweetie, let's just talk this through. I'm sorry. I really am." He noticed a degree of resignation had crept into her stance. The hands had worked and her anger was waning already. With rising confidence and an increasing grasp of the situation, he began to step towards the beleaguered Caroline and her flowing red dress. "I just didn't realise it was so late."

"Oh, that's just typical. Wonderful. You're too bloody busy to think about little old me. So uninterested by your date that you didn't think to check the time. You couldn't even be bothered to call!"

She actually harrumphed. Some primitive instinct made Dusty freeze.

"Come on, Sugar, you know I don't have a mobile. Look, stop being silly and we can..."

"Silly?!" She erupted, as Dusty winced. He cast another slow gaze over the dress, but it offered him no assistance. He found himself doubting its sincerity. "I'll tell you what's silly – sitting alone in some wretched dive with nothing but a bottle of mediocre wine for company, waiting for your date to finish the midnight tango with his secretary!"

Now Dusty was a reasonable man, and he had suffered much in the name of love over the years. But here, in this precise and singular moment, he broke.

"Jesus Christ sailing over the River Jordan in a zeppelin! I was not with Nicole!"

"Bullshit, Dustin, you spend more time mooning over her than you do bloody... breathing!"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I hear it every damn day! The infernal woman is the very bane of my existence. Do you not understand what a complete catastrophe she is? I'm so desperate to get away from the woman that I physically couldn't spend any more time with her. Christ, just because a beautiful young French woman with a waist like a champagne flute blasés into my office, everyone assumes I'm going to fall in love with her! As if I'm so emotionally predictable that I have no choice in the matter. And, besides, the fact that Nicole is driving me to the brink of a mental breakdown doesn't mean my affection towards you is diminished! Although I'd find it a lot easier to retain that affection if you would stop yabbering in my ear all the bloody time."

"I do not yabber!"

"Oh, but you do! You yabber, you whine, you wail and bitch and moan, complain criticise and chastise! Christ, woman, you're a walking thesaurus for discontentment!"

Of course, Caroline herself was no fool, and she too had taken one too many bullets for love. She swept up her coat and handbag – even in his enraged state, Dustin had to admire the precise dignity of the single, elegant movement – and strode across the restaurant, heedless of the stares of the innocent onlookers who had, by now, forgotten the indignity of it all and were just enjoying the show. She stopped in front of Dusty, stared him severely in the eye for a long, drawn out moment, and slapped him hard across the face.

"Goodbye, Dustin Rhodes."

And she left Dusty with nothing but the shocked stares of the restaurant and a warm tingling in his cheek.

"We-" he started, but was interrupted by the sharp slam of the door. Suppressing a wince, he tried again:

"Well." And, for the first time, he looked around the room.

"Frank, Tracy." He said, nodding toward a couple in the far corner. "Ah, Sula, Del! Hi. Chris? I didn't know you still drank here. Evening Laurie, always a pleasure." He strode over to the bar, to various murmurs of salutation and acknowledgement, and placed his palms upon the counter with a heavy sigh.

"Evening, Geoff."

"Evening, Dusty," replied the barman, wiping clean a glass. "Nice girl."

"Well, nice dress."

"So, what'll it be?"

"Bottle of Whiskey," came the grim reply. "For one."