Sergey. Alright, I’ll come with you, Marina.
Marina. Anna?
Anna. I’ll finish the dress tonight. It’s gonna be perfect. Goodbye, Sergey. I wish you all the best.
Anna leaves.
Marina. Let’s get on close terms, do you mind?
Sergey. I don’t.
Sergey. Are you friends with Anna?
Marina. Don’t be ridiculous. Her husband left her with two kids. She’s laying herself out, taking in sewing. It’s our custom to help the poor. But it’s so nice to meet you. I suggest that we celebrate! Let’s go out for dinner.
Sergey. Are you married?
Marina. I’m not. I am. Well, I’m not.
Sergey. I don’t get it.
Marina. My drunk husband fell overboard a yacht when chilling in Egypt with his mistress. His body has never been found.
Marina. And you? Oh, right. Frolov told me.
Sergey. My wife left me for my school friend. I’m divorced.
Marina. It means that we are both… single.
Sergey. Seems so.
Marina. Can we make it work? I’m sorry for being this blunt.
Sergey. Time will show. Aren’t you a witch, by any chance?
Marina. Maybe.
Sergey. It’s hot in here.
Marina. I have a minibar with some refreshments. Will you indulge? [She strides up to the minibar.]
Sergey. I’m not sure. Alcohol does nothing but harm. I’m afraid I can do something dumb.
Marina. Right, we don’t want that. I’ll make you a Bloody Mary.
Sergey. Don’t spare vodka.
Scene 5
One year later. Sergey Arkhipov’s Architectural Bureau.
Igor Frolov and Sergey are seated comfortably in armchairs at a solid oak desk. They are drinking Talisker Storm whisky and smoking cigars.
Sergey. You look smug.
Frolov. I’ve spent the night with someone.
Sergey. Your ass must still be hurting.
Frolov. Oh, fuck you! If only you could see her naked. Lithesome as a cat.
Sergey. You lucky bastard! Do I know her?
Frolov. Perhaps you do. Anna Sokolova’s Dancing School. Her girl students put on a performance for the president at the EXPO summit, you know.
Sergey. I don’t remember. I don’t remember.
Frolov. Here’s to wives and sweethearts! May they never, never meet.
Sergey. Amen. Now I’ll introduce you to my new girlfriend.
Sergey gets off the armchair, steps up to his weapons safe, and produces a Benelli M4 shotgun.
Frolov. Isn’t she gorgeous!
Sergey. An icon! It’s semi-automatic. Six-round magazine. I’m going to a firing range tomorrow. Wanna put it to use.