Srpska watches something on the overhead TV. "Yes! No! PASS THE BALL!" he screams before cupping his face and turning to the bar upset.
Serbia watches disinterested. "Have we lost already?" she says wiping the glass.
"With game like this, probably," he says devastated. "Ahhh, there goes my ticket!"
"Chill out, it's only 100 dinars," she shrugs. (and yes, most bets are that small).
But Srpska is male and football does something to them. "If only we won. Why? Why? WHY!"
She sighs. "What's the obsession anyway? It's so boring. Oh, oh is it going to be a goal? No? Well maybe after the 10th attempt, something happens."
Srpska shakes his head, and lets out an upset whine. She sighs again, pulling him towards her.
"There, there, basketball season will come soon," she says sweetly, hugging him.
The male continues to whine.
She sighs annoyed, patting his head.
"Alright, if we win this game, I'm turning this place into a sports bar. We'll have an entire wall dedicated to our medals!" his eyes turn to stars as he spoke. She squints not too keen on the idea of redecorating. And then the qualifications end.
"Noooooo! Why this this happen!" he yells in despair, arching his head to the ceiling. She tends to her nails, slightly disinterested. "Oh, come now. The boys did well. They were a solid team for once."
"But the goal? And the penalty? We were so close," he whines and mopes.
"Well, it wouldn't be football if someone with nothing going for oneself besides cash has no other way to spend it, wouldn't it?" she declares with her nose up.