Bullshit, is Yuri's immediate internal response, and it wavers slightly when Katsudon mentions the dog but rehardens just as quickly. Yuri doesn't have to forgive anyone, excuse anyone, pardon anyone. He knows what he saw in the bar last night and on the ice this afternoon, and this familiar anger with its unfamiliar source has a weight like a silver medal around his neck.

'It still wasn't right.' Said with a fifteen-year-old's absolute, unflinching conviction in the proper order of the universe, in which Viktor Nikiforov's consignment to the outer darkness is the only fitting punishment for his sins. 'He left you here alone, and I couldn't -- '

There's no good place to go with that thought, because it spirals out in too many directions, none of which lead to anything he wants to dwell on. He's tired of feeling defeated. So he stops, and looks away.

The snow's starting to thin out, or perhaps the wind has shifted slightly.