( Yuri blinks at the text, then lifts his head with his brows ever so slightly furrowed. His expression melts into one of smug satisfaction when he spots Otabek approaching his spot, and he comes down from his stretch with ease and care before rolling out his ankle. Warmth melts into his stomach and spreads out to his extremities, and he throws his phone into his open bag before shoving his hands in his pockets to meet him half-way. )

Hey.

( Less smug, more genuine, now that Otabek is near. Yuri pulls a tie from his pocket and begins gathering his hair into a little ponytail away from his neck. He looks fresh and ready to train despite the fact he only got about four hours sleep; Otabek's presence helps, he thinks, and motivates him to do that bit better. Even when he wants a nap. )

You better still be up for getting dinner tonight. I can pay you back for the McDonald's then, okay?

( He smiles warmly; something only his grandfather has really seen before. Thank god Phichit is paying more attention to his phone than to them, otherwise he suspects he'd give the poor boy some kind of heart attack. Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian punk, smiling for Otabek Altin. )