"Oh ... uh ..." No matter how absolutely normal and expected, even dreaded but unavoidable, interviews after performances are, Yuri still finds himself blinking owlishly trying to remember how to put words together. Somehow in a way that doesn't show that he still feels lighter than a feather, and like he might drop, and like he hasn't really said less than two sentences worth of words since stepping off the ice.
When he'd like nothing better really than to find a way out of this without questions, and to get a chance to watch the next two performances through ramping nerves, but with Victor at his side. He can't remember when or where or how Victor over-excitable, over-exuberance became normal, became preferable, comfortable even, but he'd rather have to only be jostled by it.
"I'm going to try my best?" Yuri tried not to cringe a little at the lilted end of a question there like he wasn't sure.
Even when he'd done it in China. Both skates had bested his numbers in from the Championship in Japan. By around twelve points for each one. Even falling apart on Victor before and crashing into the ice during his free skate hadn't kept it from being a new personal best for the latter of the same caliber in counting, too.
He'd just managed it, too. Maybe not ten more points. But beaten it, was still beaten it. Still a new personal best. Still over 100. On the first day. Whether either of the next skaters managed to shift him down, that wouldn't leave, and with the sudden flicker of remembering Victor, the fringe of silver hair brushing his boot, while Victor kissed it, Yuri tried again, firmer even if it came out a lot more rapidly. "Yes."
And, then. "Yes, tomorrow--" And maybe there's a partial glance toward Victor, before it's back to the camera light, and reflective cold circle lens, and the offending microphone. "--I'll continue to show Russia the power of my love."
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"Oh ... uh ..." No matter how absolutely normal and expected, even dreaded but unavoidable, interviews after performances are, Yuri still finds himself blinking owlishly trying to remember how to put words together. Somehow in a way that doesn't show that he still feels lighter than a feather, and like he might drop, and like he hasn't really said less than two sentences worth of words since stepping off the ice.
When he'd like nothing better really than to find a way out of this without questions, and to get a chance to watch the next two performances through ramping nerves, but with Victor at his side. He can't remember when or where or how Victor over-excitable, over-exuberance became normal, became preferable, comfortable even, but he'd rather have to only be jostled by it.
"I'm going to try my best?" Yuri tried not to cringe a little at the lilted end of a question there like he wasn't sure.
Even when he'd done it in China. Both skates had bested his numbers in from the Championship in Japan. By around twelve points for each one. Even falling apart on Victor before and crashing into the ice during his free skate hadn't kept it from being a new personal best for the latter of the same caliber in counting, too.
He'd just managed it, too. Maybe not ten more points. But beaten it, was still beaten it. Still a new personal best. Still over 100. On the first day. Whether either of the next skaters managed to shift him down, that wouldn't leave, and with the sudden flicker of remembering Victor, the fringe of silver hair brushing his boot, while Victor kissed it, Yuri tried again, firmer even if it came out a lot more rapidly. "Yes."
And, then. "Yes, tomorrow--" And maybe there's a partial glance toward Victor, before it's back to the camera light, and reflective cold circle lens, and the offending microphone. "--I'll continue to show Russia the power of my love."