He's surprised at the fact Yuri continues to answer, his voice getting lower, softer -- there's more there than even the shift of key his tone had taken speaking of Lilia. For his grandfather. Making Yuuri remember in a burst how little he does actually know about Yuri, even while it's been trampled by Victor's voice.

Victor's voice in every shade (patient, frustrated, understanding, removed, and on ... ).

About how his defeat a year ago, his nerves now, how it could happen to anyone.

That they all held together and fell apart on the same inch of ice, the same centimeters of silver blade, under a stress so overwhelming no one else but themselves understood, and how anything -- anything, especially something that could hit the heart, slip their ability to focus, even think -- could shift the balance of everything.

His own shoulders drop a little more at this whole unexpected turn. This -- seeing this disappointed, softer, not quite but almost sad, side of Yuri. He set his own empty cup down, and picked up the teapot, moving to fill Yuri's cup first. Custom, but, also, sympathetic. Slim words, against the soft burble and splash of the tea. "I'm sorry."

And, then, even, while pulling back to his own cup. "Have you gotten to see him while we've been here?"