[That would have made more sense, to ask for an escort through this ridiculous house, but he felt much better when he had time to himself to figure things out. He could already feel the crushing helplessness, not to mention listlessness, that came along with a heavy bout of depression. But Victor wasn't having it, he'd said so himself, so he was going to try and fight back out of it.

Makkachin butting up against the backs of his legs brought him back around and he put a hand down to be licked, then started peeking into doors, climbing up and then back down stairs, growing increasingly baffled wondering just why one man wanted or needed this much house to himself. Maybe it would be used to host parties or something of that nature? That seemed pretty logical to Yuri.

When he actually located the studio he was a little bit awed, looking around the polished hardwood and spotless mirrors, and back in a corner, like an afterthought, a steel pole stuck in the ground, all the way up into the ceiling. He stared at it, then turned away and stripped out of his shirt and socks and started to stretch. Victor would be left to his own devices for a while.]