out there orbiting around

But worst of all was the third invader: a black cat of revolting proportions sprawled in a nonchalant attitude on the pouffe, a glass of vodka in one paw and a fork, on which he had just speared a pickled mushroom, in the other.

Тhe cat drank its vodka and Stepa’s hand dropped from the doorpost.

“Get out”, Woland said to the cat.

“I haven’t had my coffee”, replied Behemoth. “How can you expect me to go yet?”