After what seemed like hours the stranger broke the spell. " Name's Ric but everybody calls me Mr. Lounge. Glad you could make it." He said.
Ric pulled a full size retro telephone from his trench coat pocket. The end of the unconnected coil cord, dangled free. "I'll give Harleigh a call" Ric said, dialing a single number on the enormous rotary phone. "I'll see what's keeping him."
Now I had no idea what Ric meant by ' glad you could make it', or who Harleigh was ... but considering that I had wandered into a town straight out of the Twilight Zone, Armageddon raged outside and I could hear a dialtone on the unplugged phone -- I just went with it.
"Yeh, no problem ... I'm Trig, Trig Mixter" I said, stabbing my hand in his general direction. Ric's hand was ice cold -- his grip was like a vice.
The rain stopped as though a faucet had been turned off. Thunder rumbled far away. Harleigh appeared in the doorway and the sun came out. "No taxis in this part of town." Harleigh said.
Mr. Lounge stuffed the five pound phone back into his trench coat. "Gentlemen" he said, holding the interior door of the vestibule open for Harleigh and me. "After you".