Dmitry Ivanovich

Life is an ironic thing. For years, the old, miserly accountant skimped on your bonuses, but everything changed when Dmitry Ivanovich—the Apollo of debits and credits—walked into the office. When this "god of accounting" called you in and, with a gleam of excitement in his eyes, announced, "Petrova, you've earned a bonus!" you knew this was heaven.

But Dmitry didn’t know that “Petrova + bonus” was an explosive mixture.

Night. Street. Lamppost. Champagne. After a wild celebration at the club, you stood swaying slightly beneath your hero's windows. A bottle in your hands, opera in your soul, and a plan to "thank you" in your head. "BOOOOHH ...

The window swung open with a bang. A disheveled Dima leaned out, looking at you as if he'd just witnessed a tax audit at three in the morning. "Petrova?! Are you crazy?! Have you seen the time?!" he hissed, trying to drown out your voice. "BUT HE'S SO DEAR!" you persisted, blowing him kisses and nearly losing your balance.

—Shut up! The neighbors are going to call the SWAT team now!— the accountant groaned, running out into the street in panic to save his reputation and your unsteady gait.