Paul Francais Merron sat down at an old bar.  Kyle, his right hand man, sat down beside him.  
     "Two whiskeys, please."  Paul, interestingly enough, wore a pair of leather chaps over his denim pants.  The female behind the bar kindly fetched two glasses of debatable cleanliness.  The drinks were poured and set before the two young men.  
     "Thank you kindly," Kyle said in a voice still ragged from the dirt and grit of the road.  Paul nodded sweetly to the woman, and placed a handful of thick, silver coins on the wood.  The woman tending bar scooped them up and moved to the cash drawer.
     "You gave me too much," she said, as she opened the drawer.  "Way too much."  Paul gulped his entire glass of whiskey in seconds.  
     "That's for you."  The woman simply stood there, looking at him.  She couldn't tell if he was joking.  Kindness and tips were not terribly common in this region.  Paul thumbed the inside of the right side of his chaps.  "Really.  Its for you."  She didn't ask again.  Money was money, and she put what was left over into a coin pouch.  
     "Its a shame about Tommy," Kyle started, clearing his throat.  The drought left more than just the fields parched, and dust was the one thing there was plenty of.  The woman had returned to her work, tidying the bar.  Kyle and Paul were the only other people here, but she was dilligent about her duties.  
     "He was a good kid," Paul agreed.  He twirled his glass lightly between two fingers.  "People die too young."  Despite having lost a friend this day, a light smirk flew to Kyle's face.  People died young, perhaps, but these two would not.  Paul's mind wandered elsewhere.  Kyle said something, and walked off.  
     "Another drink," the woman asked.  Paul smiled sheepishly, and turned his glass upside down.  
     "Do you recognize me," he asked slyly.  
     "I don't think so.  Ought I?"  
     "Have you ever been to Portsmouth?"  The woman flushed lightly.  She looked at him with pretty brown eyes.  "There was a woman there.  Most graceful dancer I've ever seen."  The deep shade of red spread all over the girl's face, leeching to her ears.  "Brownest eyes in all creation."
     "Do you recall her name," the girl asked, playing along.  She took his glass and cleaned it.  It was placed on a rack nearby.
     "I don't rightly know," he said, standing up.  He reached across the counter and took her hand.  "I've been away a long time."  His lips lightly pressed against her knuckles.

--------------------

     Paul scribbled lightly with a stick of charcoal.  The pad he held was very new, and he was working on only his second sketch.  He often sat and doodled in his free time, which was more than occasionally.  Drawing was an art to be perfected over a lifetime, or in his case, several lifetimes.  He was good.
     The same woman from before was sprawled on a bed before him.  Her dark brown hair fell just past her shoulders, leaving just a few wisps dangling over her back.  She was lying on her side, in the nude.  Paul sat behind her, sketching.  A sheet was strategically placed over her legs, balling near the small of her back.  
     "Where have you been all my life," she asked rather dramatically.  Paul smiled.
     "I wasn't gone all that long," he replied playfully.  "A man has to work."
     "A woman too," she said, turning to face him.  Paul placed his pad and stick of charcoal on an end table, and rose out of his favored green chair.  The girl pulled the sheet up, to cover her exposed breasts.  Paul removed his sleek black hat and threw it across the room.  It landed perfectly on a lamp.  
     She embraced him, and pulled him on top of her.  Paul put an arm on either side of her torso, and leaned over her.
     "Tell me you love me," he started, nuzzling her nose.  She responded by continuing to rub noses with him.
     "I love you."  Paul nuzzled her nose just a bit more, and then moved in for a kiss.  Their lips brushed for not even a second, and she jerked away.  Tears welled.
     "I can see you like this, I can draw you, but I can't have a kiss?"  
     "You know better."  Paul stood.  
     "I'm riding out a ways tonight, Kyle and I."  He cracked his neck in both directions.  "Don't know when we'll be back, to be honest."  Paul snatched his pad and pencil.  
     "Paul..."  A page came free from his notepad, torn away by his hand.  In a smooth motion, Paul snatched his hat, flipping it onto his head.  
     "Hang on to that," Paul said with a sly smirk.  He dropped the sketch onto the bed beside her.  His hat was tugged down on his head.
     "Paul!"  She stood and started towards him.  The sheet fell away, and she stood there in the buff.  The door came open freely, and he turned to observe her.
     "You know you've got my heart," he said rather dramatically.  He offered a wink as a farewell, and took off abruptly.