For the love of coffee

A delightful dazzling day

"Who ez this pig?" a thick accented voice yelled out as Viktor slipped away from Yuri.

Chuckling the man spoke in his native language. Yuri had no idea what he said. The boy, for he couldn't be more than a young teen, looked over the two of them. His narrow nose rose up in a disgusted expression. He spoke to Viktor in their language. After a bit of an exchange, the blond teen shouted out.

"How dare he! We cannot have the same name!" he cried incredulously. Viktor laughed.

"Well, dear, there you have it." He spread his hand to indicate the tantruming teen.

"You must change your name." Viktor was fighting to not laugh outright.

"Why? I'm older!" Yuri insisted.

"Zes, but I can skate!" the teen snorted.

"So can I!" Yuri insisted.

"It's just been awhile." He muttered.

"Enough!" another man appeared..

He was short, balding and looked extremely like a grumpy garden gnome. He walked down the steps to reach the ice. His hooded eyes darting between the two skaters.

"Get your toy off of the ice. Yuri needs to practice. You know he has his debut in another month!" the man ordered Viktor.

"Ya, ya, Yakov!" Viktor waved his hand dismissively at the old man and teen.

He took Yuri's hand to pull him to the side of the rink. Leaning over he reached the blade guards easily. He held them out to Yuri. The dark haired man slipped them over his skate blades. Viktor leaned against the divider wall. He smiled at Yuri as if he was the most tantalizing thing on the menu. Just how was Yuri not to fall for this?

It was an act. All an act! Yuri intoned in his head. It was an hour later. Viktor had told Yuri to go, since practice was private. He had insisted they would see each other for diner. Yuri's departure was highlighted by Yakov yelling that Viktor was in training. Once more the sliver haired devil simply waved the coach off.

Yuri went to work. Today he was suppose to go get shots of the latest JPop crazed group that was striking up the charts. He knew he could have sold any shots for a lot of money. He sighed. Well, good thing he had Viktor to fall back on!. Smiling to himself, Yuri went to the small office space he rented in town.

It wasn't large at all, in fact his apartment was bigger. There was a large glass window, a wall divided it between Yuri's space and the martial arts dojo next door. Yuri's name was printed in a simple design denoting him as a photographer. He unlocked the door.

Walking in, he was in the largest room. It was six feet by ten. He had a small waiting area with two chairs, an end table and a magazine rack that held a portfolio of his works. Across from this sat a receptionist desk. There was a divider that separated this from his own desk/ workspace. Then in the back was a closet sized storage area, where Yuri kept the cleaning supplies and a few props he owned. Next to it was the same closet style half bath room. There was one more door on the other side of the hall in between these two. It was four feet squared.

Here was where Yuri took some of his pictures. It had a staged area and his equipment. Sometimes he would just black out the front window, using screens and lighting, take pictures in the main area of his office. This he only did if it was a large group. Which was very rare.

It was rare that he had clients come here for their photos to be taken. Most of his work was in the field. Yuri hung his coat up, still filling his head with his own mantra. It was all an act! He checked his messages. There were a few clients, a couple debt collectors and his sister had called, laughed then insisted she hit the wrong number and would call his cell phone.