Igor's day

I found big Igor* pacing back and forth on the Court steps in an animated, contentious phone conversation. "Everything alright?" I asked. He told me he had been arguing with his ex-girlfriend's current boyfriend, who had somehow discerned through his network of informers that she and Igor had had lunch together that day (she works in the same building, so this is not exactly shocking). Igor had agreed to meet the boyfriend mano a mano after work, in the parking lot. Memories of my all-boys high school came to mind: "Meet me in the locker room after recess to settle this, dipshit."

"He'll probably just warn me to stay away from her," Igor said.
"Any reason to be worried?" I asked, "You need my help?"
"No, not really. He is bloody crazy though. A year ago he was always parked outside my apartment, watching me. I suppose he might have a gun."
"A gun? Shit."
"Eh, it's easy to get a gun around here, not uncommon. Don't worry mate, it's just a chat."

Nevertheless, we made a plan whereby I would interrupt their meeting after 15 minutes to give him an escape route. After work, I watched the parking lot from my office window: there was the paranoid boyfriend, screaming, arms waving wildly, and Igor calmly smoking cigarettes. At the appointed time, I came outside, shook their hands and pretended as if I had no idea what was going on. The boyfriend seemed annoyed, prattled on in Bosnian to Igor for a little while longer, then abruptly walked away.

"What did he say?" I asked Igor.
"Nothing special. I hate this stupid papac ("peasant" or "redneck") shit."
I laughed. "Just another day in the Balkans, eh Igor?"
"Yeah, sure," he chuckled. "I guess you could say that, mate. Never a boring day."

* Name has been changed in order to avoid me being a gossipy jerk.