He's only halfway down his first cup of tea, and already he's running out of things to talk about. But he has to keep going. It's not as if Viktor ever let that sort of thing stop him. Even when he doesn't have anything important or useful or helpful to say, you usually can't get him to shut up.

(It's a long plane ride between Moscow and Japan. A long time with nothing but the thoughts in your own head, if you're flying by yourself.)

'Do you have any other questions?' he asks, as he pulls his phone back and lets the screen fade to black. If Katsudon's ability to ask questions has improved as much as his jumps have, it'll at least be a pleasant surprise.'There might not be time for it tomorrow.'

A sudden silent realization, cutting across his thoughts like a skate blade slicing through the skin of his palm in the middle of a spin: I won't be able to talk to you like this tomorrow.