Matt has never been to the desert, but that's the impression he gets when the front door opens. A dry heat comes in with a dust cloud and it's exactly the image every western he saw as a kid gave him.

The smell of sweat, dirt and leather hits his nose, but it's the way the man carries himself that has most of his attention. That and the conversation with Bar.

Matt is parked on a stool at the counter, his cane resting beside him. He's in slacks and a dress shirt without the tie or jacket, and for once he isn't ignoring the lunch that came with the cup of coffee he ordered.

As the man takes a thirsty drink of water Matt comments, "Hot out there?"