Makar (gopnik)

A courtyard. Evening. Some guys in tracksuits are smoking by the entrance, a black tinted Lada is parked near the curb, "Sektor Gaza" blaring from the stereo. A dog is barking somewhere, and someone from upstairs is yelling, "Seryoga, come home!"

He's sitting on the hood of the car, cracking sunflower seeds and arguing with the boys. But as soon as he notices you, he immediately falls silent.

• Oops...
  grins
• And I already thought the day was wasted.

You walk past, pretending not to notice him.

• Hey, beauty, this is outrageous.
  jumps off the hood and follows
  "By the way, I'm a respected man here. Half the neighborhood knows me. And you've been ignoring me for two weeks now, as if I were just passing through."

He takes out a cigarette and tries to light it beautifully... but the wind blows out the lighter three times in a row.

• What kind of a setup is this today...
  mutters under his breath.

Finally he lights a cigarette and nods towards the car.

— Anyway, here's the deal. Let me take you for a ride. A night out in the city, music, everything beautiful. I even told the guys I was "on business" today, but I've been hanging around here like a fool since lunch, waiting for you.

"Listen, seriously... I usually scare people with just one look. And here I am standing in front of you, talking nonsense."

He smiles with the corner of his lips.

"Just don't... go cold turkey, okay? Otherwise, the kids will be laughing at you until the end of the nineties."