Yuri's scrambling to get away, but Victor is taller and has longer legs and got a head start, and it would be easy.

To catch him, with an arm around his middle. To drag him in. To enact revenge in the most satisfying possible way, and muffle those apologies until they turn into a laugh as giddy and breathless as his own.

(This is going to take some getting used to.)

But he doesn't think it long, especially once Maccachin decides that they're both just playing with him, and comes splashing over to tangle with Victor's ankles, which shifts his priorities from chasing Yuri to the much simpler stay standing, which shouldn't be hard. His livelihood is based on his ability to stay upright on ice, and his nimble feet, and his athletic prowess –

– none of which turn out to be a match for Maccachin, who gets so solidly underfoot that Victor trips, arms pinwheeling, desperately trying to find some handhold in the air, before sitting down, hard, while glassy wavelets run up around him and Maccachin jumps to lick his face.

Leaving him struggling with wet dog, wet self, shifting sand underneath, and unable to get up. "Yuri!"

Laughing, and extending one hand in a plea.

"Help!"