The girl tried to twist her hair back into a knot, but Tishchenko did not let her do it, grabbing her wrists with her hands. In the end, Olga pulled off a wet glove from her hand and swung it.

- Boys, boys! - Valentina looked ingratiatingly at Morozov, but addressed everyone. - What are you parting, huh? Let's go to the table, Marina cooled the vodka, brought snacks.

Roman chuckled, never taking his eyes off Olga. Tishchenko and Makarov, supporting each other, left first. The aunt continued to stand next to Morozov, tugging at his sleeve.

- Roman Borisovich, please come to the table.

Let her come to us!...