She's standing by the time the rat arrives with the two big bags of food.

"There's enough here to feed an army," she deadpans, stuffing a hand in her pocket and thumbing through a wad of dirty paper bills, ignoring any objections he might have.

"Here. There'd better be cigarettes in there as well." The rat nods. It knows which side its bread is buttered on. "Spaseba," she murmurs, pressing the bills into its paw.

"Come on. I'm starving."