[At the ExCom‘s cabinet]
Limaeva: … Good evening! …
Milinevsky: Yes… Please, take a sit!..
..What can I say…
You came to the stage, performed that song… And what’s next?
Do you really think that’s going to work?
I have a family, after all, and…
…By the way, don’t you know why your voice sounds familiar to me?
Limaeva: My… voice?
…Okay, nevermind… It’s probably nothing…
You know… Stalin, Plotnikov, Romanov… Well, in fact, all of us received a certain number of love letters.
And me, too. Even though, I think nobody did it in such a way before.
Or, at least, I don’t know about it.
Well, actually, I liked your song.
I really did.
I guess a technician just couldn’t turn the sound off when he realized that it wasn’t… the right thing.
How old are you?
Limaeva: I’m 16.
Milinevsky: Oh, right… You’re in the 11th grade already.
I’ve got to go now. There’s still a lot to do.
Maybe, we’ll meet again later.
Limaeva: Meet… again?..
Milinevsky: Why not?
Limaeva: I… I’ll be waiting for you!..
I’ll be waiting for you…