There are times when he wonders how well he actually knows St. Petersburg, spending weeks and months in the Sports Champions Club training, only to jet off to Barcelona, Tokyo, Helsinki. The season was spent traveling, until he knew these old hotels better than his own apartment, Maccachin left behind to be walked by a sitter or penned up in a kennel. Living out of a suitcase had never seemed like an inconvenience to him: as long as he had his skates and his costumes and a rink to borrow or rent for a few hours, he was fine. Had it always left him feeling this grimy and tired, or is this something new?
Or is it just being in Moscow?
His reflection in the hotel mirror doesn't look all that different from the one he remembers from last year, but something has changed, whether he can see it or not. Even during the summer breaks, he used to travel: sometimes on his own, sometimes with friends, sometimes with traveling shows, sometimes just for fun. Maybe it's just that this is the first year in more than he can count that he feels like he has something to leave behind.
Still, his voice is cheerful, if muffled beneath the towel he's using to pat his face dry, before he sticks his head out from the door to wink at Yuri. "Maybe I'm just getting old."
From Yurio, it would be a sullen, growled aside, like a cat swiping at someone who was just walking by, and he would find it annoying. (And has.) Yuri would probably find it too rude a thing to suggest, and if it slipped out, he'd turn red and bow his head repeatedly until he was laughed off and forgiven.
Maybe it is true, mused as he turns back to the mirror to finish his toilet. His knees and back don't ache like Yakov's, but they're getting to be a little stiff on cold mornings. The shoulder he'd hurt years ago occasionally reminds him it isn't as flexible as it used to be.
And in the midst of traveling, he's already thinking about returning to Hasetsu.
Well, it probably has more to do with being in Moscow than anything else –– he's looking forward to being in Barcelona again. "How does everything look?"
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There are times when he wonders how well he actually knows St. Petersburg, spending weeks and months in the Sports Champions Club training, only to jet off to Barcelona, Tokyo, Helsinki. The season was spent traveling, until he knew these old hotels better than his own apartment, Maccachin left behind to be walked by a sitter or penned up in a kennel. Living out of a suitcase had never seemed like an inconvenience to him: as long as he had his skates and his costumes and a rink to borrow or rent for a few hours, he was fine. Had it always left him feeling this grimy and tired, or is this something new?
Or is it just being in Moscow?
His reflection in the hotel mirror doesn't look all that different from the one he remembers from last year, but something has changed, whether he can see it or not. Even during the summer breaks, he used to travel: sometimes on his own, sometimes with friends, sometimes with traveling shows, sometimes just for fun. Maybe it's just that this is the first year in more than he can count that he feels like he has something to leave behind.
Still, his voice is cheerful, if muffled beneath the towel he's using to pat his face dry, before he sticks his head out from the door to wink at Yuri. "Maybe I'm just getting old."
From Yurio, it would be a sullen, growled aside, like a cat swiping at someone who was just walking by, and he would find it annoying. (And has.) Yuri would probably find it too rude a thing to suggest, and if it slipped out, he'd turn red and bow his head repeatedly until he was laughed off and forgiven.
Maybe it is true, mused as he turns back to the mirror to finish his toilet. His knees and back don't ache like Yakov's, but they're getting to be a little stiff on cold mornings. The shoulder he'd hurt years ago occasionally reminds him it isn't as flexible as it used to be.
And in the midst of traveling, he's already thinking about returning to Hasetsu.
Well, it probably has more to do with being in Moscow than anything else –– he's looking forward to being in Barcelona again. "How does everything look?"