Moscow (and Milliways): Rostelecom Tea Time [1.08-1.09]

[yuri_plisetsky]

He hadn't been certain that it would work. He's only ever reached this place through his bedroom door before, only in St. Petersburg, only at the end of the day. There's no guarantee that it would show up here in a random Moscow hotel room just because he wanted it to appear badly enough.

But it does. Perhaps because he does. When he swipes the keycard in his hotel room door and opens it a crack, the bar is on the other side.

There's no time to be surprised, or grateful, or concerned about what this might mean. Yuri simply pulls the door open wider and propels the Katsudon through it, steering him over to the nearest empty booth with one hand.

'Sit here,' he commands, with a touch of Lilia's steel in his voice. 'Don't you dare leave.' And he's off to the bar before he can hear a word of protest. Not that he'd pay attention to it if he heard it.

Comments

[theglassheart]

He doesn't except Milliways. He doesn't argue being drug into the bar. He doesn't argue being drug across the room. Or pushed into a booth. Or even being ordered not to move. He's not quite sure he knows how to. He feels strangely and suddenly adrift. Concerned, but it's amorphous, and bigger than that, too. Hands in his lap, very still on his thighs.

He placed Second only hours ago. Only hours ago. But it suddenly feels days ago. Years ago.

He's, absently grateful, for the booth, for the bar, even Yuri bringing him here. Somehow. But grateful is the wrong word. He's just relieved he doesn't have to look at Yakov and Lilia yet, or again. Suddenly, thrust on them. Taken not exactly graciously, but taken on all the same. Told where to show up tomorrow, what times. He remembers it. There are details. But they seems to be slipping through his so very still hands as his eyes cover the room, seeing little of it.