Mark chuckled.

- Foreign analogue? For example… Empanadas de Pino. In Spain - a pie with a filling. Pathetically.

- Epanadas Debila? I furrowed my brow, trying to repeat. No, she would have killed me then.

- You can just Empanadas.

- Do you know Spanish too? I asked, already knowing the answer.

Mark let me go ahead, and we went along a narrow path, at the very edge of the slope. He himself moved step by step, holding out his hand, as if preparing to catch me at any second.

- A little. I went for four days, I did not have time to get used to it. But...