The snap is back toward a more familiar territory. Yurio glaring icy dagger at him. Hands on his hips. Shouting that word, and more, too. Yuri does at least push up from the snow, making sure to gather the top of the brown paper bag in his alternate hand. If he has to eat it, he'd rather be standing, than go on soaking up the snow while he's doing it.

He brushed the snow off his pants, and then off his fingers on a part of his jacket. He pulled a pirozhki out. Cool and solid, even though everytime he's seen them anywhere in these days they've been steaming, but he doesn't think of that long. The logic between asking and being shouted at again is a very short line.

The world might still be too big and too heavy, but he'd still like to avoid more screaming and swearing.
He does what he's told. Hoping that it'll make some sense, or do whatever it is Yurio seems to think he is doing.

He takes a bite and starts chewing, talking as he is, like it's a report he owes Yurio and his strange birthday present. Warm and filling in his mouth, familiar, with the glimmer of a surprise. "There's rice in this..." Not potato, like all the ones he'd seen, and he keeps chewing, before it hits him, what those other flavors in his mouth are. "Pork cutlet and egg, too."

His mouth dropping open in sudden surprise, so wide, it's under his scarf, when he looks down at the inside of the pirozhki for the first time. Pork, surrounded by egg, surrounded by rice. The surprise is grander than anything else, wiping away all of it for a delighted shock. "It's katsudon!"