— Master, — the boy returned from the dining room with a gloomy expression on his face, — I'm afraid that the local menu will not please your refined taste...
— That's right, — Alm, who had been silently reading the newspaper until then, interjected, — this road is rarely used, and the food is mainly intended for peasants and border guards. You can't expect anything other than buckwheat and a couple of cutlets, boss. Therefore, I suggest we cross the border quickly and have something decent to eat.