It's like watching someone try to walk underwater. Slow and heavy, barely coordinated. No real understanding in his face of anything that's going on, like he can't even manage enough of a reaction to be surprised. The Star Hotel could be on fire and actively burning down around them, and he probably wouldn't even blink.
Fuck it. Whatever. If Yuri has to think for both of them, too, he can do that.
Admittedly, he knows he should be more patient, more considerate, in how he handles this next part of his plan, but he's hyperaware of everyone in the lobby -- the front desk clerks, the scattered other guests, people who can identify their team jackets and might be able to figure out who they are if they don't know already. Another skater, another coach, another reporter could walk by any minute. Already they're starting to attract attention, heads turning to look at them, remnants of interest that could develop into something Yuri can't fully trust himself to deal with in a way that doesn't involve creative combinations of Russian and English expletives. So he doesn't try to take Katsudon by the wrist or arm and drag him along; instead, he gets a hand behind him to steer him from the back, like a life-size puppet with a pork cutlet brain, and propel him across the lobby.
'We're getting out of here,' he says, low and tight, as they move. 'Just keep your mouth shut and walk.'
(He probably doesn't need to say that much -- right now Katsudon doesn't look like he knows what words are, let alone how to make them come out of his mouth -- but the last thing he needs is to try to come up with explanations for where they're going.)
The ride up seems to take a lot less time than the ride down. Yuri has his card out and ready, his face set with concentration, as he pushes Katsudon down the corridor. By the time they reach the door to his room, he's pulled up a picture in his mind's eye...of opening the door to his bedroom in St. Petersburg and finding something more than his bed and his cat on the opposite side. As he reaches around to slide the card into the reader, and the little LED light flashes red-red-red and then green, his mind is a single point of focus: Please. Please be there.
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Fuck it. Whatever. If Yuri has to think for both of them, too, he can do that.
Admittedly, he knows he should be more patient, more considerate, in how he handles this next part of his plan, but he's hyperaware of everyone in the lobby -- the front desk clerks, the scattered other guests, people who can identify their team jackets and might be able to figure out who they are if they don't know already. Another skater, another coach, another reporter could walk by any minute. Already they're starting to attract attention, heads turning to look at them, remnants of interest that could develop into something Yuri can't fully trust himself to deal with in a way that doesn't involve creative combinations of Russian and English expletives. So he doesn't try to take Katsudon by the wrist or arm and drag him along; instead, he gets a hand behind him to steer him from the back, like a life-size puppet with a pork cutlet brain, and propel him across the lobby.
'We're getting out of here,' he says, low and tight, as they move. 'Just keep your mouth shut and walk.'
(He probably doesn't need to say that much -- right now Katsudon doesn't look like he knows what words are, let alone how to make them come out of his mouth -- but the last thing he needs is to try to come up with explanations for where they're going.)
The ride up seems to take a lot less time than the ride down. Yuri has his card out and ready, his face set with concentration, as he pushes Katsudon down the corridor. By the time they reach the door to his room, he's pulled up a picture in his mind's eye...of opening the door to his bedroom in St. Petersburg and finding something more than his bed and his cat on the opposite side. As he reaches around to slide the card into the reader, and the little LED light flashes red-red-red and then green, his mind is a single point of focus: Please. Please be there.
And when he opens the door, it is.