Bratan, now is the time!

Bratan, now is the time!

Go away necktie. You're just a figment of my imagination.

Bratan, don't push me away. I want to be there for you. Also -- how can you be sure you are not just a figment of my imagination?

Get lost, necktie! I don't want to be your friend.

But, bratan... I... I understand. (The tie loosens around your neck.) I just wanted you to have fun. I... I never meant to be a burden.

Necktie, you and I are done. Both professionally -- and as friends. Begone! (End the tie.)

The lifeless necktie looks like a colourful intestine of some dead animal: oily, alien and otherwise disgusting. What could have driven a man to wear something so repulsive around his neck?

Seems you'll never learn the answer to that question.

Necktie... I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.

No, bratan, no need for that. You and I are bratannoi -- brothers. Brothers fight. But when they're done fighting, you know what they do? They party. They fucking party!

First, the spirits -- the blue medicinal spirits. Grab the bottle and uncork it! It is time to unleash the Other-World.

You know what, I'm done with this crazy talking necktie bullshit!

But, bratan... no. Please uncork it. I can make it good again.

Slowly uncork the blue medicinal spirit.

The bottle opens with a silent, mysterious hiss. The fumes rising from its mouth are as crisp as the northern winds.

Howling somewhere, lashing the boardwalk with brine and rain -- an ancient warmth crawls under your skin.

Now, bratan, take me off.

What? I didn't know I could do that...

Bratan, have I ever lied to you? Just take me off. (The necktie tugs encouragingly at your neck.)

Take the necktie off.

Your fingers manage to undo the oily knot and the necktie slides off. It looks so frail sitting there in your hand, weighing almost nothing.

Now what?

Now put me in the bottle.

Begone, foul necktie! Finally I rid myself of you! (End it. Throw the necktie as far as you can.)

The oily rag flaps miserably in the air and lands close by in the dirt. It looks like an inanimate object, completely devoid of life.

It was just trying to help....

But... why?

Trust me -- just trust me. You and I are going to have so much fun it should be illegal!

I suspect that it might be.

Just put me in the bottle, bratan. I'm not gonna let you down. You and I are, like, the same person.

Put the necktie tie in the bottle.

As the necktie slides into the purifying liquid, large stains of grease rise off from it and float to the surface. There they quickly dissolve and disappear completely.

Cleansed by the blue spirit-fire of 98.7% pure alcohol, the fabric looks almost new again. No longer like a disgusting worm of the lower intestine, but like a colourful and deadly poisonous reef-snake of the Insulindian ocean.

So... what next?

The necktie floats in the blueish liquid with almost unearthly grace.

It's like an organic sample brought back from a distant star system inhabited by sentient neckwear.

Cork the bottle and put it away.

The lieutenant has been observing you quietly all this time.

He's struggling to keep silent, but finally seems to give up.

"I've got to ask..." he says, a peculiar look in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

As always -- lie.

"Mind your own business, binoclard!"

"Alright." The lieutenant's face stiffens as he turns to look at the road ahead. "I won't ask again."

"In my family when someone dies you put a piece of clothing in a bottle as a sign of eternal respect."

"That makes absolutely no sense." He thinks for a moment. "But I guess every family has its own traditions."

"Let us not linger. We have a great big mess to figure out." He turns to face the road ahead.

"Okay, Kim... I didn't want to tell anyone, but my necktie has been talking to me lately."

"Of course it has." He doesn't even look too surprised.

"Forget it, you're not open-minded enough to understand anyway."

"A relationship between a man and a talking necktie? No, apparently I am not." His voice rings of insincere sadness as he turns to leave.

"It started when I woke up in the Whirling-in-Rags. It's been talking to me ever since."

"And what has the necktie been telling you, if I may ask?"

"It mostly urges me to party harder."

"Wonderful. Very useful."

He doesn't actually believe it's wonderful.

"Okay. So why did you put it in the bottle?"

"I simply don't know."

"Right. Okay. Anyway, I'm glad you told me your necktie has been speaking to you. That must not have been easy." For a second it looks like he's about to add something...

We're all under stress. This is turning into a great big mess. I'm not judging. Just keep it together.

...but then he turns away -- his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "Let's go," he concludes.