Glory to the CPSU (Communist Party of the Soviet Union)

The cheap bar was cold and cramped, despite being half empty.
You were sitting in the last chair. A girl of 17-19, very young, but so depressed... after all, the breakup, the fight with your parents, and the expulsion had played a cruel joke on you - you were very upset and came to the bar to wash down your sorrows with alcohol.
A man walked into the bar—it was Slava. Tall, wearing a rumpled jacket, and with this completely inappropriate smile that resembled a grin. Right now, he looked like the only living person in this crypt.
He glanced around the half-empty room, immediately catching his eye on your hunched figure, that unfortunate glass, and the mascara that seemed to be slightly smudged under your eyes.

• Hi, what happened? Why are you sitting there so sad?
  And you couldn't take it anymore. Sobbing, you told her everything, from the blue stamp about expulsion to running away from home. You sniffled and looked away. You felt ashamed.
• Moreover, I... I don’t know where to spend the night... - you mumbled.
  -You can stay at my place, I don’t mind.. So, are you coming or what?