"Hah. I'm afraid you'll have to give an old man a moment to rest his voice. It's been a while since I talked so much."

Otabek feels unsteady for a moment, as though he's had a rug pulled out from under him. He blinks rapidly to regain his composure.

"Of course," he says. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Please," Victor says with a smile, standing slowly. "Just point the way. I need to stretch my legs anyway."

Otabek glances at Victor's son for confirmation, but the young man just shrugs. "He doesn't like to sit still. Says he did enough of it at boarding school to last a lifetime."

JJ offers to show Victor to the galley, and the two of them disappear down a long corridor. All around Otabek and the green-eyed stranger are the sounds of abandoned work being resumed, as the scientists who'd stopped to listen to the story remember what they're being paid for.

Letting out a huff of breath, the younger man slumps back in his chair. Otabek eyes him speculatively.

"You know," he says slowly, "I never caught your name."

"Victor has a way of monopolizing the spotlight," the man agrees. He glances at Otabek. "…It's Yurio. Yuri, really, but I haven't gone by that in so long that even I forget sometimes."

Otabek isn't sure if there's a delicate way to ask his next question, so he falls back on an age-old standby: bluntness.

"You're the kid in the story."

Green eyes narrow slightly, and Yurio pauses before answering. "...Yeah."

"You were on the Titanic too."

An irritated hiss escapes between Yurio's teeth. "Listen," he says, his voice low. "If you're gonna ask me a bunch of personal questions about it, you'll be disappointed. I was like six years old. I don't remember much."

He shouldn't push this man, Otabek knows. It's a sensitive subject. But he can't help himself, his dogged nature winning out. "I find that hard to believe."

Yurio gapes at him, then bares his teeth. He looks as though he's about to snarl something back when JJ comes into the room with his usual unnecessary flourish. Victor is right behind him, and Yurio's attention snaps to the old man like it's on an elastic band.

Otabek thinks he understands that gaze a little better now. It's careful. Watchful. Protective. He knows that Yurio isn't Victor's biological son, but whatever they've been through together has made that fact utterly irrelevant. They're family in every way that matters.

Victor sinks back into his seat, and his eyes flicker from Yurio's tense posture to Otabek's impassive face.

At least, Otabek thinks it's impassive. The way Victor's eyes crinkle with amusement has him second-guessing himself.

"Yurio," Victor says, "I hope you've been polite to our host."

Yurio makes a noncommittal noise, and Victor chuckles lightly. Then his eyes drift back to the display, and Otabek watches as they trace the illuminated Promenade deck. He knows that the last time Victor saw it the white paint was still fresh and clean, but now rusty stalactites drip from the rails where Victor met the love of his life.

When Victor speaks again his voice is low, both worn over the years and made stronger by them. "Shall we continue?"