Demyan (busily). Then it's a deal!

They shake hands.

Demyan (busily). So after work, we'll have dinner, an hour will settle down and… come on, I'm at your place at eight o'clock. Is it okay?

Oleg (calmly, but lost). Just right.

Demyan (busily). Well, that's it then…

Demyan gets up, wipes his hands on a napkin, takes his jacket, puts it on, goes to the exit.

Demyan (turns around, looks sternly seriously at his friend). Oleg, how are you? Is everything okay? Can I leave you alone?

Oleg (trying to hold on). Yes, my friend, thank you. Tomorrow at eight. Thanks for stopping by.

Demyan nods, after seriously examining the room and Oleg for the last time, and leaves.

ZTM

House. Room. The room is in order. It is clear that the master's hand had a place to be here. Everything is in place, but somehow in a different way.

Oleg and Demyan are returning from a run. Both are somewhat out of breath, still partially at a running pace, in tracksuits, everything is as it should be.

Demyan comes in second, closes the door behind him and immediately sits down on the floor with his back to the door. Trying to catch his breath.

Oleg, at a barely noticeable running pace, makes a couple more circles around the table.

Oleg (relatively cheerfully). Demyan, what are you doing? You can't change the pace abruptly right after a run like that. Don't you know? First, we take a step, then we can sit down. But not immediately.

Oleg takes a step, but continues to walk around the table.

Oleg (relatively cheerfully). Come on, come on, get up, walk a little…

Demyan begins to walk with his feet, but his ass is still on the floor, and his back, as before, holds the door.

Demyan (wearily). Walking on the spot. Will that do?

Oleg (relatively cheerfully). This is you "sitting" on the spot, and not walking on the spot turns out. But… At least so.

The men stop their move. Both are located on the sofa. Oleg sits down first, Demyan crawls on all fours there on the sofa second.

Demyan (climbing onto the sofa and settling down there). I'm going to die. That's the truth, the truth says – the road to hell is paved with good intentions!

Oleg hugs his friend with one hand.

Oleg (with warmth). Thank you, my friend. If it weren't for you, I would probably still be sitting and looking at a pot of potatoes, and mourning Taisiya's departure. Of course, I'm still not completely gone yet, but still somehow it even seems to work out… for some reason. Although I didn't really hope for it. It's all thanks to you.

Demyan (in a blissful voice). Go on, go on…

Oleg (with warmth and irony). Oh, what a wonderful friend I have! Always support, always give a helping hand! Always in a difficult moment will be there and pull you out of any scrape! My faithful support! My compass! My core and life vector!

Demyan (in a blissful voice, savoring). Ooooooooo of daaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Demyan sits down on the sofa in a normal way, he is no longer dying of fatigue, he is already in shape.

Demyan (busily). Well, I've had enough laurels and praises for today. Tell me, what are your plans for the rest of your life?

Oleg (with warmth, removing his hand from his friend). Who knows, my friend. What plans – to live! But you know… we assume, but God disposes. Who would have known that this is how it would all come out…

Demyan (interrupts). Well, okay, okay, don't go into these sad philosophical thoughts. Aren't we still alive today?

Oleg (with warmth). Alive…

Demyan (cheerfully). So, since we are given this day– we must do something! We must not live this day in vain! We must justify our existence today! To do something good, something kind! Something useful! Something needed by people, something pleasing to the world! Here, for example…