The boy is yelling at him. All fuming fire, or maybe there's something else where he's from. Something scary and...Russian. Yes, Russian, because he was with the Russians. But isn't he related to some kind of house pet? There's an odd, smooth smile that goes serene on Yuri's face and only seems to enrage the kid even more. On his toes, trying to yell, well, he is yelling, but most of it is bouncing off Yuri's chest and shoulders, even with the boy on his toes, and the rest.
Well, nothing is stick, all together too fully. The room has turned a warm, sort of golden, and the crowd has changed. There are some people cheering and yelling their names now, sporadically clapping even though they haven't started, and no one's got rules, when Yuri actually puts a hand on the kids' shoulder and spins him toward a different piece of space, not in his face, and he searches for the beat again, finding it just as the music stops.
"Nani?" It's slipped out of his mouth as he's turning toward the DJ, because they can't stop now. They haven't even started.
But his eyes get there, and he kind of laughs, again, even as he can here the kid grinding his teeth, because they both get there at the same time. There's a man at the computers for music, but he's accompanied now. Christophe Giacomet. Arm slung over the man's shoulder, and leaning in, over, around him, cheek to cheek, as though he's helping himself to the man's system through the man, himself,, and it feels like the whole mood of everything shifts. Heightens.
He's not the only one. Or at least they're all going to make it worth their while to watch this now.
When the music comes it's thundering. The base is hard, beat electric, and it's faster. So much faster. Something wicked sparking at the edge of Yuri's mouth, that isn't a smile, but is, it really is, before he starts moving. He can't remember the last time he got to just dance. Not skate. Not ballet moves for skating. Dance.
He'd learned every single kind of dance he could from Minako, when he was training with her. Every single way that he could learn to move his body. He'd been ravenous for it. Got lost and found in every single new piece and style she showed him. Music, movement, new things he could take from his feet and her lessons and put to use once he was back on the ice. But this, this was its own type of enjoyment.
Like his body had never forgotten. Like he'd learned yesterday. Every muscle and bone felt more fluid than even water.
Like he was becoming one with the air, and the music thumping through it, through the floor, through his blood.
And if the kid looked like he was starting to sweat, like he hadn't quite expected this, Yuri couldn't help smiling right back.
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Well, nothing is stick, all together too fully. The room has turned a warm, sort of golden, and the crowd has changed. There are some people cheering and yelling their names now, sporadically clapping even though they haven't started, and no one's got rules, when Yuri actually puts a hand on the kids' shoulder and spins him toward a different piece of space, not in his face, and he searches for the beat again, finding it just as the music stops.
"Nani?" It's slipped out of his mouth as he's turning toward the DJ, because they can't stop now. They haven't even started.
But his eyes get there, and he kind of laughs, again, even as he can here the kid grinding his teeth, because they both get there at the same time. There's a man at the computers for music, but he's accompanied now. Christophe Giacomet. Arm slung over the man's shoulder, and leaning in, over, around him, cheek to cheek, as though he's helping himself to the man's system through the man, himself,, and it feels like the whole mood of everything shifts. Heightens.
He's not the only one. Or at least they're all going to make it worth their while to watch this now.
When the music comes it's thundering. The base is hard, beat electric, and it's faster. So much faster. Something wicked sparking at the edge of Yuri's mouth, that isn't a smile, but is, it really is, before he starts moving. He can't remember the last time he got to just dance. Not skate. Not ballet moves for skating. Dance.
He'd learned every single kind of dance he could from Minako, when he was training with her. Every single way that he could learn to move his body. He'd been ravenous for it. Got lost and found in every single new piece and style she showed him. Music, movement, new things he could take from his feet and her lessons and put to use once he was back on the ice. But this, this was its own type of enjoyment.
Like his body had never forgotten. Like he'd learned yesterday. Every muscle and bone felt more fluid than even water.
Like he was becoming one with the air, and the music thumping through it, through the floor, through his blood.
And if the kid looked like he was starting to sweat, like he hadn't quite expected this, Yuri couldn't help smiling right back.