“...The scene that unfolded in front of us, in principle, could have been foreseen, although I thought it would be worse. We flew here in silence, and only the red-haired girl noticed us - she likes to change gentlemen every dance and after every glass. She noticed, but she couldn’t say anything, because the half-bandit, who had lost patience, pressed her against the wall, tightly squeezed her throat and quite politely explained how tired of her she was: “...Or you stop your tricks and behave normally, bitch.” painted, or I'll finish you right now. You're already sick of me! - he squeezed out of himself and, to be sure, he squeezed his huge fingers tighter. The girl’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, she slammed her mouth, and then I jumped up. - Well, let her go, you bastard! – I shouted, hitting the guy on the back of the head with my fist, and immediately gasped in pain: either the back of his head turned out to be petrified, or my hands were too weak. Most likely the first, but I won’t argue. – What is it? - the guy turned towards my voice, and Fima, without saying any of his prepared speeches, simply and effectively hit the guy in the crotch with his knee. I would never have thought that Fima was capable of such feats...”