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It's Just a Drink</div>

<div align="justify">The crisp air brings about a chill that hits the trees with a whiff of frost along the bark's edges. Leaves crinkle and crunch beneath the feet of those walking down the doroga, and it seems like no one is around to tend to the commercial street and pick up the leaves on this small side road. It's not crucial, as only a few shops are on the main walk, a few bars and restaurants. But these places are generic, as you can find good shashlyk anywhere in St. Petersburg, but that's not what Pietra's searching for.

More leaves flatten underneath the thick leather boots as Volkova looks from neon sign to sidewalk chalkboards, waiting to see her spot. Face painted, Volkova is the stunning image of female Russian pride, and a few people on the street mistake her for her predecessor Maria Maximova and ask for some autographs. "I haven't earned those yet," she politely responded, declining to take full grasp of the fame to be had.

Still looking around, she cocked her head right. "Bar 17." Yep, that's where I'm supposed to be, she thought, and headed in. The door was hard to pull open and shut like a vacuum seal behind her, pushing her a bit forward to the cute bartender.

"What'll you be having?" he asked, scanning her up and down, waiting for a clever laugh or some cute smile like he's seen from many a broad before. "One bottle of Stolichnaya for me and my 2 friends, and I'll close now," she smirked, seeing the boy's beam turn to a realizing frown as he sulked to the register to close the tab on a bottle of the good stuff. Volkova glances and sees her two friends in the back waving her over, and after Mr. Bravado hands over the bottle, she heads to her gal pals.

"What took you so long?" Greta asked, grabbing the bottle out of her hands in the process. "I've been holding out until you got here, unlike someone..." She rolls her eyes toward Ekaterina, who's already a little sloshed. She rolls her head forward, and manages to slur out, "How's it going, Pietra?" before hiccuping her head back onto the booth headboard. "Good," Pietra starts, ignoring Greta's question, "real good, just a bit worried. You two nervous at all about the draft?"

"What, that?" Greta laughed. "Nah, it'll be a breeze. We have each other, there's no way we don't get drafted." Pietra sighs, and takes her first shot of the night. "Sorry I got here late, was just getting in a few shots down at the rink. I had to sign some jerseys to get access to the rink, is that crazy?" Greta grinned, saying, "Methinks the Russians put too much pressure on you." She then poured another shot and slid it to Pietra, a hot mess, and joked, "At least they make the best pain relief out there, not like Norway." She grimaced and spat out, "Rotten fish, still don't like it, and it's my mom's specialty!"

Pietra interjected nervously, "Can we get back on topic? I'm really freaked out!" She paced the table with her darting eyes, and mumbled, "We don't exactly have the background of a Jason Aittokallio, you know..."

With a roar and a flipped table, Ekaterina burst to life, grabbed poor Pietra by the coat neck, and slammed her against the wall. "If you ever mutter that arrogant, flashy, legacy, prep-school shit's name again, I'm never going to let you practice against me, ya hear?" She shoved Pietra slightly into the wall and slumped back down to the booth, instantly snoring and head cocked back yet again. Struck, Volkova braced herself to sit next to Greta, who was laughing her ass off the whole time.

"Why didn't you save me?!" Pietra asked, pushing Greta to the side. "You can handle her, she's not that bad. Aittokallio, he's good, and she's not all wrong," Greta noted, taking another shot, this time not bothering to grab a glass and straight-shooting from the tall, clear bottle. "He's talented, and he comes from solid hockey blood. His dad's, like, the best SHL goalie ever, and he's got those same smarts and moves. Ekaterina might take it a bit personal because she's competing against him straight up, but he isn't going to not be a first round pick, you feel me?" she asked, wrapping her right arm around Pietra.

Pietra nodded her head, and snuggled into Greta's neck crevice. "Yeah, I guess. We can do this," she said, mainly motivating herself. "At least we got a chance to relax and chill before we ship out to North America, right?" she asked, hugging Greta and grabbing the bottle, ready to head back to the hotel. As they both grabbed one arm of Ekaterina and started the long walk down the doroga, Greta looked past Kat's face toward Pietra and responded, "Yeah, it's nice, but it's just a drink. We'll be having a lot more of these nights in the future."
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I know it's not the traditional draftee story, but I hope you liked it, <a href='index.php?showuser=2238' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-54'>shlpris41</a>, <a href='index.php?showuser=2240' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>mel24</a>, and <a href='index.php?showuser=2243' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>Paige</a>.