[Kiska]

The Omega chuffed out a soft laugh before gritting his teeth and pulling at one of the wraps until it slipped free. "I think most Russians just drink vodka, eat good food, and find a mate to keep their bed warm. All the ones I know, anyway. Sometimes I think about leaving the country over the winter; I'd take three months in Toronto over Moscow any day." There was a sparkle of entertainment in his statement, even as he pulled at bandages that were soaked through with sweat and blood. Of course it was painful, but Vasiliy did his best to keep quiet about it, hissing quietly only when he finally stretched his toes out to air out his war wounds.

"As bad as they are now, they were worse," he explained, turning to take his kit from his bag, including iodine wipes, antibiotic creams, and several rolls of medical tape, gauze, and bandages. He handed the kit over, turning to rest his foot on the bench between them while he started work on his other foot. "I danced professionally for... nine and a half years, I think. I started when I was sixteen, with the Mariinsky Theatre, which is pretty good, even though I was only corps de ballet, not that I expected anything better. I had a lot of firsts there; I danced in my first production, La Bayadere, as a temple dancer, actually. It's a woman's role, but the director liked how I moved. I was a late bloomer, so I presented during practice there. I had my first kiss, and... you know." Here, he paused to smile, almost embarrassed at what he was telling a stranger before continuing. "I went from there to Toronto with the National Ballet of Canada as a first soloist for four years, and then I was offered to come back to Moscow to dance with the Bolshoi Ballet, and who could turn that down? Otherwise, I would have stayed in Canada."

It was the best way he could think to distract himself, knowing that the care of his feet was going to be painful--more so with someone else taking care of it. He had a strange sense that Tobias would be gentle with him, and it eased his fears just enough. It's not like he was just treating some injuries, either. Vasiliy's feet were his livelihood, and to put them into the hands of an Alpha he didn't know.... Maybe he was being too trusting, especially after what the last nearly ten years of his life had been like. And then... wasn't that conceited of him? Thinking that any Alpha might want him at all? Of course it was. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of man would want someone like him in the first place.

As he finished unwrapping his left foot, he glanced up, mostly to check the progress on his right and tried his best to smile. "What about you? I don't hear of a lot of artists who can just pack up and move to a new country on a whim. You must be very good."