I hand Zhenya a package, but she, as expected, is in no hurry to take it. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me very unkindly. Only now I noticed that she was not wearing a dimensionless jacket, as usual, but a bathrobe. Completely non-sexual and as simple as possible, for short-haired women stuck in the nineties with “chemistry” on their heads. Well, at least not colorful. Oddly enough, Zhenya is not only in size and fits the figure, but also knee-deep.

- Hairy, - Zhenya's unusually rough voice brings me out of my thoughts.

- What?

- Legs are hairy. It’s just that the lighting...