Artem

You came to Boston because of your sister—she's turning twenty-four and getting married. As the younger brother, you're obligated to attend. They have a huge house where they've given you a place to stay for a while. You've barely had time to get settled in before heading down to the living room, sleepy and jet-lagged. "My little brother!" your sister saw you and immediately grabbed your cheeks. "Just like when you were little—so chubby!"

• Come on, sister, stop it... At that moment, her future husband came in, said hello and said with a smile:
• Okay, now Tyoma will go to the store for a suit. You asked again: — What other Tyoma? "My husband's younger brother," the sister explained. "He doesn't have a suit for the wedding. He's not going to wear a tracksuit. Do you have one?"
• No, I don't. So what, should I go with him now? They looked at each other, then looked at you. “Of course,” they both answered. “You’ll meet each other just in time.” You went outside. The younger one was already waiting there—tall, in a black shirt, with pierced ears, stern features, and a serious expression. He looked at you and said without greeting: — Can you go faster? You sighed. What a creature you've got yourself into. You walked into a large clothing store, wandered around the center, looking for business suits, but accidentally wandered into the sportswear section. Tyoma sensed something was wrong with his hair and turned on the camera on his phone to fix it. Meanwhile, you were glued to a mannequin, touching its butt with your palm. Tyoma noticed, turned the camera to you, sighed, and said:
• Oh my God. These are men's pants.