I am not erm... the most eloquent person in this place. Especially because I am drunk. And I am the worst drunk ever.

Isn't it just awful?

And me!, Miss Save the planet I don't want to have kids because the world is cruel but if I did I'd like to see them grow old and healthy and preach moralistic crap about alcohol and drugs and the importance of books. Make it recycled books.

My parents should disown me. Oh wait, they already have.

But back to being less eloquent than slightly drunk and extremely horny males making passes at overly beautiful, and dumb, animal tested lipstick wearing princesses. Ridiculous passes, might I add. I could come up with better lines that that! And so could the also extremely horny truck drivers that shout unimaginable things to me while I go on Animal Watch by the road sides, if I didn't think it is rather pathetic those guys are the only ones who ever shout things at me. And if I weren't doing it – animal watching – because I really have nothing better to do to help save them. And because it's in my nature to always do the right thing.

Well, not really. Once my parents ordered the secular tree in our front yard cut down to build a new drive way for my older sister's new car. I screamed for about five hours. No one took notice. So I did what I had to, and released both their expensive, and possibly smuggled, birds from the small cage they were sharing. My parents grounded me for a week. I didn't speak to them for a month. Not just because I'd lost my voice somewhere in all that screaming.

Okay, bad memory. Apparently, alcohol does make you forget things. Important things, like the fact that you don't drink. But then I'd have to have forgotten about it before I started drinking, otherwise it just doesn't make sense. It also makes you remember the not so important ones…

Oh yes, right. That reminded me of the reason why I'm here, sad alone and shitfaced, while these people dance. Long story short, another cosmetics factory will open. Which means more animals tortured and stupid people celebrating.

I feel like dying. And dancing should be prohibited, along with animal testing.

Oh look, another vodka shot. Being held by a familiar face. But faces don't have hands… right? Whatever. This face, once the face of a friend, now the one of an enemy, since she works for this stupid cosmetics company and brought me to the celebrations, when I so foolishly believed I was going to the theater, is talking about the stupid shit-tasting vodka, something to do with 'expert advice' or 'his mom makes it at home' or 'should try it with lemon', but I don't care, I just drink it. She can talk about cats all she wants, I'm never speaking to her ever again.

'Traitor.' I give her my final word and walk away, looking for some more of that wonderful, dizzying vodka. I know I said it tastes like shit, and it does, but the Mother Land deserves such sacrifices, since I've lost my battle when sacrificing for animals.

And what's with this noise? They're calling it music, but I'm yet to hear something other than disgusting echoing within these walls. Sound waves should consider it offensive to be treated this way, much like my eardrums are doing now. Compressing my brain won't help! I pull at my hair, angry at the world.

But then I see it. Yes! A shot. I smile and run towards it. But you'd think that running would make me move faster than this. Anyways, all I have to do now is reach out and grab it.

What is this? Who dares ruin my perfect moment? I follow the hand connected to mine, the arm, the shoulder, then one ear and finally a face. A guy's face. I think I've seen him before. When I arrived, probably. I don't exactly remember much after that, only that I must have seen this particular face in the sea of monsters here and there, between shots. And now he's speaking.

'Who are you, again?' he asks and smiles. Stupid animal torturing company employee. Must be a friend of Dana's. Should I tell him I don't remember him? Or that I am here simply for the glass of vodka in his hands?

'I'm the nerd that, when in bed, instead of "talk dirty to me" will say "talk russian to me".' I reply, eyeing the small amount of heavenly nectar dangerously rolling between his stupid long fingers, hoping he'd catch on.

'How did you know I was Russian?' he asks, truly surprised.

'Say what?' I'm dumbfounded. I was so not expecting that answer. It has never happened before!

'Well, yes. I mean…' Does he sound embarrassed or what?

Cutting him, I stutter, trying to form words intelligible enough to make me sound grossed or even possibly offended.

'Hey! No! Wait! Just… just wait one second! I didn't… I'm not trying to… I was just… Are you… Fine. I guess what I'm trying to say is go to hell.' I smile. Offended it is. After all, Dana did not warn me. How could she not? You absolutely have to tell me these things, I always do the talk russian joke to her friends.

'Actually, I…' He's not embarrassed anymore.

'I?' A little help, maybe?

'I, uhm…' What the hell is wrong with him?

'You?' I am curious.

'You know what? Never mind.' He smiles coldly this time. Wait, was it me? What did I do? Oh, fuck it.

'Freak.' I decide and sip the miraculously appeared glass in my hands, while trying to roll my eyes. More simultaneous actions than I can actually take right now.

'Who, me?' He asks, genuinely amused.

'No, me.' Can you say slow?

'Oh. Alright, then.' And what was that? Spite?

'Not me, you freaking idiot, you! You! You're the freak!' I blurt out, hopefully loud enough for him to hear, and finish my vodka. I wanna beat this guy to a pulp.

'Excuse me?' Stop sounding so amused, idiot! 'Unbelievable. You're all over the place.'

He gives me this look that could easily say 'Likewise', but then he turns serious. I say serious when I should be saying disgusted, but at least he's stopped being flippant about this whole issue. 'Erm… maybe you should, uh… I don't know-'

'No, you don't. Of course you don't. No one does.' I sigh and swallow some saliva. I always lose control of my mouth when I drink and there's absolutely no need for me to start drooling now.

'Right.' Now he looks positively concerned. How can someone portray so many different emotions like this? I'm pretty sure I reached my limit when I finally did 'sad' instead of 'hungry'.

'Not even me.' I could go on and on, pal.

'Yeah. You should leave. Definitely.' There he goes with that stupid cold smile again.

'Leave? What?' What the hell is he talking about?

'Leave. Me. Alone.' Pause. Between. Words. No one does that to me.

'Oh. I get it.' I pretend I understood, but I'm not even sure as to why are my eyes still open.

'Why aren't you leaving, then?' He says, after about thirty seconds of awkward staring. On his part, obviously. Haven't I mentioned my eyes are closed?

'Leaving?' I ask, lifting an eyebrow. It is much more difficult with your eyes closed.

'Goodbye.' I see him one last time before me, turning around. I won't miss him. Go to hell, durak!

'You don't say that to a russian man.' He says. Wait, I thought the idiot was gone?

'I didn't say anything.' Durak, durak. This is fun.

'You didn't?' I nod. Of course not, durak. Seriously, I could do this forever.

'Well, the way you behave, you won't live to see forever.' Is he threatening me? Poetically? Or did he just quote the latest 007? 'You do realize you're saying all that aloud?'

Oh, please. That is so clichéd. And way too stupid even for my own standards.

'That's saying something, isn't it?' He lifts his eyebrows.

'Stop it, you're giving me motion sickness.' I swear the ground was shaking for a bit. He laughs, an incredibly surprising laugh for a guy like him. You'd expect a bear laughing, if bears do indeed laugh, but you get the point. He kind of looks decent now. In a human kind of way.

'Decent? No one's ever called me that.' Decent? Oh, wait. Shit.

He laughs again.

'I'm still doing it, aren't I?'


'Go to hell.'

'Can I take you with me?'

Oh look, a car!

Is it raining?

'Yes.' Says a voice from the deep dark. Have I heard that before?

I love the rain.

Now a grunt comes from the dark. Am I saying things aloud again?

Must stop that. Because I never want to speak ever again. Actually, no. I'd like to stop thinking.

Someone is laughing at me… 'Don't open the door! No! Stop it, goddammit!'

But I want to feel the rain. 'No, you can't.' No, I can't. 'Get back in the car.' I don't remember agreeing to this. 'Where do you live?' Say what?

A/N: I do not own 007 and "durak" actually means stupid in russian.