He's really going to have to run, if he's going to make it, but it was the only non-stop flight he could get. Sliding his wallet and phone into his coat pocket, he runs a gloved hand up into his hair and sighs. "I'm going to have to change and pack as quickly as possible."
Maybe fifteen minutes at the hotel. A cab to the airport. A rush to get on the plane at all.
All that, to hurry up and wait on the nine-plus hour flight back to Japan, when he won't even be able to fly straight to Fukuoka. "I have to go through Tokyo, and then the Kamamoto. I'll take the train to Fukuoka and call Mari or Misato to come get me."
It's so roundabout. It might not even be enough. Might still be too long, too far, too slow, but even if he's the five time reigning world champion, he can't make the distance between Russia and Japan any less than what it is. (He knows. He would have done it before, if he could.)
The Star Hotel is beginning to loom in the distance, and he's gathering himself, even as he turns to look at Yuri, who seems ... quiet, but not dangerously so. He's tense, but not in the way he was last week, when everything was cracked glass threatening to shatter at any given second. "It's not the best possible flight, but it'll get me there around midday tomorrow."
He says it because he's not sure he can say everything else he wants to say right now: that's he's sorry for leaving, that he wants Yuri to get some sleep tonight, that he knows Yuri will be fine tomorrow, even without him. Everything throwing itself on the creaking glass of his thoughts, as the cab pulls up and Victor exchanges a few brief words with the driver and hands over the fare. Even getting out onto the sidewalk feels like he's going too slowly, taking too much time, but he waits for Yuri, even if his steps heading into the lobby are swift ones.
He'll call for another cab from the room, and have it waiting when he comes back down here in less than twenty minutes. "I guess it's a good thing we packed light."
no subject
He's really going to have to run, if he's going to make it, but it was the only non-stop flight he could get. Sliding his wallet and phone into his coat pocket, he runs a gloved hand up into his hair and sighs. "I'm going to have to change and pack as quickly as possible."
Maybe fifteen minutes at the hotel. A cab to the airport. A rush to get on the plane at all.
All that, to hurry up and wait on the nine-plus hour flight back to Japan, when he won't even be able to fly straight to Fukuoka. "I have to go through Tokyo, and then the Kamamoto. I'll take the train to Fukuoka and call Mari or Misato to come get me."
It's so roundabout. It might not even be enough. Might still be too long, too far, too slow, but even if he's the five time reigning world champion, he can't make the distance between Russia and Japan any less than what it is. (He knows. He would have done it before, if he could.)
The Star Hotel is beginning to loom in the distance, and he's gathering himself, even as he turns to look at Yuri, who seems ... quiet, but not dangerously so. He's tense, but not in the way he was last week, when everything was cracked glass threatening to shatter at any given second. "It's not the best possible flight, but it'll get me there around midday tomorrow."
He says it because he's not sure he can say everything else he wants to say right now: that's he's sorry for leaving, that he wants Yuri to get some sleep tonight, that he knows Yuri will be fine tomorrow, even without him. Everything throwing itself on the creaking glass of his thoughts, as the cab pulls up and Victor exchanges a few brief words with the driver and hands over the fare. Even getting out onto the sidewalk feels like he's going too slowly, taking too much time, but he waits for Yuri, even if his steps heading into the lobby are swift ones.
He'll call for another cab from the room, and have it waiting when he comes back down here in less than twenty minutes. "I guess it's a good thing we packed light."
Relatively speaking, anyway.