[Yuri leans himself up against the bar running along one wall, sipping from his own bottle of water. He feels a little better about his choice in attire for the day now at least, with as warm as the room has gotten. He'd been entirely absorbed in the ideas for the piece, never quite processing in full that he had been at it for hours, that he'd had his hands on Victor, that the two of them worked together weirdly well at least when it came to this.

He bent double with his feet spaced far apart to try and alleviate some of the burning of his muscles, his forearms pressing against the ground. He isn't as flexible as a lot of skaters, but he was bendier than Victor at least.]

Maybe we should figure out supper soon? I'm getting hungry.