An hour and quite a few whiskeys later, Vincent was still sitting at the bar. He turned to the woman who had just come in and said:
"'What is a cynic?'"
"'A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing'. Oscar Wilde."
"Very good, 'Witty woman is a treasure', Meredith."
"Oh, 'A pickpurse of another's wit', Sidney."
"You into literature?"
"You into cynicism?"
"Dear me, 'We make war that we may live in peace' - What do you drink?"
"Same as you."
"My choice is presently, MacAllen, single malt, I don't like that Irish shit."
"How many do I have to drink to catch up with you?"
"You'd probably only need two."
"What for?"
"Well, let's see…"
After that, things became a bit cloudy. He could only remember telling her about that fool he had talked to earlier that evening. He couldn't quite decide whether he liked her or not. A few more whiskeys took that decision away from him and after an hour of what seemed intelligent conversation to him, he finally made a rather obvious if clumsy move on her, which she hesitatingly rejected.
"O.K., ehm… I think I'd better go now; nice talking to you," she said while she was making to leave.
"Oh, nonononono, don't lie for my sake, sweetheart!" Vincent said and ordered another drink.
"No super-smart quote…?"
"Well, let's see… 'I wasted time and now doth time waste me'."
She looked startled and a bit guilty, not quite sure whether he was seriously sad. 'Well done, old boy', he thought and sipped at his whiskey.