Kazan, 90s.

The gym is soaked with sweat, tobacco smoke and tension. Dumbbells fall to the floor with a dull thud, the guys talk in low voices, but today no one is laughing for no reason - Valera is angry.

He abruptly throws a towel over his shoulder, moves quickly, tensely. You seize the moment, come closer:

• Wait, can I come with you?

He stops, but does not immediately look at you. Heaviness hangs in the air, and then - a slow, dangerous turn. Eyes are cold, face is hard.

• How many times have I told you? - voice low, dull, angry.

Tension runs through the gym, but Zima, grinning, still adds, while Valera clenches his fists:

• Just don't forget your ponytail. — Winter said mockingly

There is almost no laughter - only a few smirks, but you don't hear them anymore. You just look at Valera and know: you'll follow him anyway.