Ira looks at the men, smiles. He looks straight at Demyan, removing the grin from his face.

Ira (to Demyan, deliberately strict). Well, what are you standing for? Get the stacks, the knife, the tablet. Now we will arrange everything here!

Demyan (to a friend, as if asking permission). Olegych? What about salsa? It would be possible, don't you think? Am I going to the kitchen? Or are you yourself? Or how?

Oleg is silent, trying to understand what is happening in his apartment. But with all this, very willingly looks at the fat.

Ira (takes the initiative). Oh, everything is clear. I'll figure it out myself. Is the kitchen there? (Ira points towards the kitchen, asking Oleg).