Apparently, there is an even worse answer than yes or no, and it's some.
Yes means there's nothing to hide. No means that he can keep his own mouth shut. Some...but really, should he have expected more than that? Of course Katsudon would want to forget all about that night, to not talk about it unless there was no way to avoid it. It's not as if Yuri had told his grandfather about it, not even by cutting out all references to being anywhere other than Moscow. But Viktor's the only other one who knows about this place, has been here before -- and might have understood, at least a little bit, why Yuri had done what he did.
(And why it hadn't worked, in the end.)
'Some,' Yuri repeats, on an exhale of breath. He flexes his right hand one last time, tightens it into a fist -- feeling and hearing several of his knuckles crack from the effort -- and then reaches for the chopsticks again. 'Fine, whatever,' he says, in the same quiet voice. 'He's your coach -- you can tell him whatever the hell you want. Just so long as I know that I don't have to play dumb about it.'
He takes his time fitting the chopsticks back into his hand. He's managed to eat a little less than half of the bowl of noodles so far, and he still has a ways to go.
no subject
Yes means there's nothing to hide. No means that he can keep his own mouth shut. Some...but really, should he have expected more than that? Of course Katsudon would want to forget all about that night, to not talk about it unless there was no way to avoid it. It's not as if Yuri had told his grandfather about it, not even by cutting out all references to being anywhere other than Moscow. But Viktor's the only other one who knows about this place, has been here before -- and might have understood, at least a little bit, why Yuri had done what he did.
(And why it hadn't worked, in the end.)
'Some,' Yuri repeats, on an exhale of breath. He flexes his right hand one last time, tightens it into a fist -- feeling and hearing several of his knuckles crack from the effort -- and then reaches for the chopsticks again. 'Fine, whatever,' he says, in the same quiet voice. 'He's your coach -- you can tell him whatever the hell you want. Just so long as I know that I don't have to play dumb about it.'
He takes his time fitting the chopsticks back into his hand. He's managed to eat a little less than half of the bowl of noodles so far, and he still has a ways to go.