The Rostelecom event staff are accommodating even in their surprise, but they keep shooting furtive glances his way, and he knows it's because they expect him to be pleasant, charming, affable. Everything he has always been in the public eye, that he has no time or patience for now, because he has to sign papers, and Yuri has to sign them, and he's still not sure he's doing the right thing, but there's no space or time to take Yuri aside and talk it over with him.
If he's going to go, he has to go now. It's nearly a ten hour flight from Moscow to Tokyo, and it will be next to impossible to fly directly to Fukuoka. Even if he leaves right now, the chances of him being in Hasetsu even within the next fifteen or twenty hours is slim at best, and Maccachin ––
It doesn't kill his unsettled concerns, but it does leave him with very little choice about how to proceed from here. From the second Yakov agreed to take Yuri on, the dam was burst, and now there's nothing to do but see this through. "I have to book a flight."
That's half to Yakov, partly to Yuri, partly to himself, partly to the world at large as he runs a distracted hand up into his hair, fingers still covered in gloves. "Pack my things. Yuri ––"
Finding him nearby, always nearby, and apparently always watching Victor, which Victor is both grateful for and guilt-ridden about. "We need to go over some last notes for your free skate with Yakov."
Yuri knows what to do. This free skate is in his blood, now, and Victor has every confidence he can skate it with or without Victor there to watch on the sidelines, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to still try to give Yuri every last chance he can, and Yakov is the best coach he knows, the only coach he, personally, would ever choose. "We need to go back to the hotel ––"
If they're done here, and he's not sure if he cares one way or the other. Normally, he'd care quite a lot about appearances, about how he appears to the staff here, what they perceive and might relay down the line, but he's feeling far too shattered and distracted now to be much more than vaguely polite.
Not that Yakov will especially care, but it does, in a dull and distant way, make him feel a little bad.
no subject
The Rostelecom event staff are accommodating even in their surprise, but they keep shooting furtive glances his way, and he knows it's because they expect him to be pleasant, charming, affable. Everything he has always been in the public eye, that he has no time or patience for now, because he has to sign papers, and Yuri has to sign them, and he's still not sure he's doing the right thing, but there's no space or time to take Yuri aside and talk it over with him.
If he's going to go, he has to go now. It's nearly a ten hour flight from Moscow to Tokyo, and it will be next to impossible to fly directly to Fukuoka. Even if he leaves right now, the chances of him being in Hasetsu even within the next fifteen or twenty hours is slim at best, and Maccachin ––
It doesn't kill his unsettled concerns, but it does leave him with very little choice about how to proceed from here. From the second Yakov agreed to take Yuri on, the dam was burst, and now there's nothing to do but see this through. "I have to book a flight."
That's half to Yakov, partly to Yuri, partly to himself, partly to the world at large as he runs a distracted hand up into his hair, fingers still covered in gloves. "Pack my things. Yuri ––"
Finding him nearby, always nearby, and apparently always watching Victor, which Victor is both grateful for and guilt-ridden about. "We need to go over some last notes for your free skate with Yakov."
Yuri knows what to do. This free skate is in his blood, now, and Victor has every confidence he can skate it with or without Victor there to watch on the sidelines, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to still try to give Yuri every last chance he can, and Yakov is the best coach he knows, the only coach he, personally, would ever choose. "We need to go back to the hotel ––"
If they're done here, and he's not sure if he cares one way or the other. Normally, he'd care quite a lot about appearances, about how he appears to the staff here, what they perceive and might relay down the line, but he's feeling far too shattered and distracted now to be much more than vaguely polite.
Not that Yakov will especially care, but it does, in a dull and distant way, make him feel a little bad.