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“It’s not quite right.”
“No, it’s fine. Trust me.”
“I’m with Yulia on this. You really ought to talk to a doctor about this.”
“Dima, for fuck’s sake, there’s plenty of men my age, especially in policing, who are like this.”
“I mean- okay, maybe, but you really are quite skinny.”
Igor Grom felt a headache coming on. He had cleaned up his apartment. He had bought groceries. He had even put the door back on the bathroom! He had made everything perfect for breakfast with his friends and this was what they wanted to talk about.
And yes, yes, he was on the thinner side. Long hours with few breaks and many occasions of chasing down criminals meant he probably wasn’t eating quite as much as he should have. But, still! He was fine! He was fit, he could run for kilometers on end, and he got the job done. What else mattered?
“I told you two, I’m fine. Stop worrying about it and eat your damn blini.”
Dima looked at him odd. “You might still need to up your sugar intake at work, though. Hypoglycemia does tend to link to poor mood. Also, you can’t think as well if your brain is starved for energy.”
“So, what? I should just keep a bowl of candy at my desk?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. Besides, I’ve heard men with a little extra on the waist have better staying power in bed.”
“...Yulia, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that at 10AM on a Saturday. It’s too early for sex jokes.”
“On a lighter note, at least it might help you in case you get stabbed. Or shot. Again.”
“It wasn’t that bad. I shrugged it off.”
“You needed 27 stitches! That’s not a ‘shrug off’!”
“It’s fine. We all work dangerous jobs.”
“Yes. We do. It’s still better to not get stabbed or shot.”
“Well, yes. But that’s not necessarily my decision to make.”
“Just... eat your damn blini, Grom. And don’t try to run off to save the day immediately afterwards. I bought dessert on the way here and we will be having it.”
“Fine, fine. Just know I’ll give you the bill when I have to go clothes shopping again.”