Shotglass

The only other drinker in the lounge was a man at the other end of the bar. He was busy mooning over a row of shotglasses.

The waitress appeared and set three shotglasses on the table. Ivan paid her, then waved her off. “Drink!” he exhorted us, picking up his glass and draining it with a quick tilt of the head.

His friend’s eyes had already wandered to the bar, where the bartender was pouring vodka into a row of shotglasses.