From someone:

I come home somehow, angry, tired - the mood is just for killing a passing person. Here, as on my order, a couple of clear boys approach me, say, to smoke? I really had a package of Parliament thin with me – the lady of the heart asked to buy. I do not think very much (I still hear the baking – it will be a morrow), I give him these same slugs. The guy, obviously somewhat upset that he is given this, takes a cigarette, and smokes. My mood rose immediately.

The second type, looking at the smoking comrade, gives:
Do you smoke like your grandmother? – There was such a range of surprise and disgust on his face – how, his clear friend smokes babba sighi!
The first broke:
Who did you call your grandmother? - I was immediately forgotten, and the hoppers self-forgottenly scattered between themselves.
Needless to say, I came home in a very good mood.