It takes approximately seventeen million hours for the elevator to reach the eighth floor.
When it finally does, Yuri wastes no time in stepping up to the door and shouldering through it before it can open all the way. At least this means that the pig and Viktor aren't on his floor; he'll take whatever small comforts the universe can throw his way right now.
The keycard opens onto a single room, looking much like any of the dozens of hotel rooms he's been in for competitions. Single bed, single desk and chair, door to the closet and bathroom off to the side. There's a large bottle of some fancy European water and a grossly over-the-top bouquet of flowers in a vase on the desk -- he doesn't have to look at it to know that it's from Rostelecom, the usual welcome gift to the members of the national team -- and his luggage is set to the side of his bed. He takes off his backpack and drops it on the bed, then opens it to take out the bag of pirozhki. They're mostly cool now, but he grabs one anyway, and takes a bite of it as he walks over to the window to look out over the sprawling panorama of Moscow at night, the glittering lights of cars and billboards and buildings all casting a wan glow onto the overcast winter sky.
I'll show them all, Dedka. The hand that isn't holding the pirozhok fists in the drapes, wadding the thin fabric in a crushing grip. I won't let anyone beat me this time. You'll see how far I've come.
He'll win his first senior gold here. No matter what it takes.
no subject
When it finally does, Yuri wastes no time in stepping up to the door and shouldering through it before it can open all the way. At least this means that the pig and Viktor aren't on his floor; he'll take whatever small comforts the universe can throw his way right now.
The keycard opens onto a single room, looking much like any of the dozens of hotel rooms he's been in for competitions. Single bed, single desk and chair, door to the closet and bathroom off to the side. There's a large bottle of some fancy European water and a grossly over-the-top bouquet of flowers in a vase on the desk -- he doesn't have to look at it to know that it's from Rostelecom, the usual welcome gift to the members of the national team -- and his luggage is set to the side of his bed. He takes off his backpack and drops it on the bed, then opens it to take out the bag of pirozhki. They're mostly cool now, but he grabs one anyway, and takes a bite of it as he walks over to the window to look out over the sprawling panorama of Moscow at night, the glittering lights of cars and billboards and buildings all casting a wan glow onto the overcast winter sky.
I'll show them all, Dedka. The hand that isn't holding the pirozhok fists in the drapes, wadding the thin fabric in a crushing grip. I won't let anyone beat me this time. You'll see how far I've come.
He'll win his first senior gold here. No matter what it takes.