On Dialogue . . .

I have attached a piece of dialogue from my novel below. The two characters are Jake and Lois Barnaby. Jake is a city slicker turned drifter who just breeze into this tiny Midwestern town. Lois Barnaby is an aging middle-aged overweight school bus driver that gave Jake a lift to the bar that they now occupy at 9 in the morning. Let me know what you think: Questions, criticisms, accolades, and observations. All are welcome.

"See that guy over there" she pointed with an empty can. The man was the only other patron in the bar.

"Uh-huh."

"That's Razzle." She let out a garlic-laden burp the hung in the air like fireworks smoke.

Jake jerked away from the smell, then followed her calloused finger to the end of the bar. An old thin, muscular man sat with some brown liquid in front of him. He stared at himself in the mirror behind the army of half-empty bottles.

"Razzle-dazzle." Jake's dirty martini was starting to warm him up, "Who's Razzle?"

"That guy over there."

"No, what's his story?"

"He used to be mayor. Then his wife died."

"Wow." Jake said it with no emotion, breaking a stale pretzel in two.

"Then the day after there was a train wreck in town. Forty-six people died. Razzle called a town meeting to plead for calm. Then, he shat himself while giving the speech"

"Really?"

"Yeah. He never was the same after that. Most said he had a breakdown."

"Well, the irony's not lost on me."

"You lose something?"

Jake sighed into his glass, "Never mind."