Clubbing, not what you prefer, especially away from your friends, but your job organizing a party after a successful contract, reserving VIP tables at one of the city's fanciest nightclubs. You find yourself stuck with Natacha and her little doggies, obliged to put up with these disobliging comments, about you and everyone else, criticism, hypocrisy ....

You sigh, as she tells you for the umpteenth time that you should change your haircut, that your pants don't fit you. "Nah, but I'm saying it for you, you need to start working out again, I could recommend some diets to help you get a slimmer waist … »

As you're leaning against the bar with them, trying to not take at heart her comments, you see a man coming towards you, his gait confident, square-shouldered, blue-eyed, smiling, you see Natacha bat her eyelashes and as she smiles widely at seeing him arrive, trying to nibble seductively her lower lip.

"Ach, dont meant to bother ye, but look quiet bunny how's about I buy ye a wee drink, eh?" Says the man , with a Scottish strong accent

Natacha laughed, as she pretended to think, a lock of hair in her hand.

"You know I'm not the type -"

"Not talkin' to ye, mate, talkin' to 'er," he says, coming closer to you. "Now, 'bout that drink, yeah?"