"Blasphemy," she said, looking mildly scandalized at the thought that he did not love vodka. Sure, her love was probably in part due to cultural proclivity and was almost certainly stereotypical to one degree or another, but whatever. Shit was good, mixed well with a lot of shit, and didn't give her nasty hangovers in the morning. Usually.
"Nice to meet you, Seth," she said. "Katya." She rarely used her full name for introductions unless someone asked; at best it usually led to five minutes of someone awkwardly trying to pronounce it, usually with a shitty accent to boot. "So," she added with a curious glance over at him. "Been in this extremely luxurious mindfuck for long?" A bit of her dream surfaced, the thought of staying here even longer to work as a maid, and she had to suppress the instinctive shudder.