He's watching Yuri closely, heart dropping when Yuri's eyes do, but the explanation that comes is simple enough, and there isn't anything that looks like Yuri when he's hedging. "My pillow, huh?"

Maybe that's not so bad. He sidles up to the thought like a man on a building ledge, eying it like it might be an open window he can slip back through to safety. Not that he really thought –– even drunk he doesn't think he would try anything –– but it's nice to know he hadn't violated Yuri's trust without even being aware of what he was doing.

(And Yuri is very comfortable, and nice to hold. He can well imagine not wanting to let go if he didn't have to.)

"Russian?" It isn't that it doesn't make sense –– it does, he still slips back into it sometimes even while sober, when he's very excited or distracted or especially angry –– but there's something in the way Yuri says it, a little wry, that makes him curious. "I hope I didn't say anything too strange."

That drunk, who knows what he might have said or confessed to? Anything. Everything. All the things he's set aside because he wasn't supposed to be thinking them or wanting them at all.

At least Yuri doesn't seem too put out by it all. That's probably a good sign, even if he can't quite seem to relax again, yet.