He's beginning to feel pleasantly floaty and warm. Next to him Yuri's chatting with – well, listening to, and nodding when prompted – Phichit, but he's eating, and the tension in his shoulders has started to wind down, and that's a good enough start for tonight that Victor refills his glass again, fairly sure now that he won't have to be on high alert to talk Yuri down until much closer to the actual competition.

Even if the bottle feels light enough to be a bit of a surprise, and he can't, thinking back, quite remember how many times he's tipped a little more into the glass to top himself off – but it's fine. He feels good, and Yuri is on his way to feeling good, and that's all Victor really needs to care about tonight.

That Yuri eats. That he relaxes. That he sleeps. That he knows Victor has nothing but absolute and perfect faith in him.

(That the last eight months have been some of the best and happiest of Victor's whole life.)

But for now, he only listens with a smile, leaning on crossed arms and sipping at his rice wine, enjoying the faint buzz in his head and the warmth he's beginning to feel and having Yuri right there next to him, reunited with an old friend. And –

"Ciao ciao!"

Celestino, suddenly arrived, offering a small wave and a smile, and Victor's already fishing with his chopsticks while Yuri's stumbling over a greeting, to offer up a squirming shrimp.

"Want some shrimp?"

"Oh – " Celestino's face contorts, but he waves it off politely. "That kind of food doesn't agree with me."

But he hasn't even tried it. "It's really good!" Victor tries again, pushing the shrimp closer, but Ciao Ciao only recoils, so he shrugs, and slurps it up himself, instead. "Anyway, we have lots! Do you want a drink?"