Honestly, Viktor is relieved to see Five jump. Past iterations of the man would have done well to be more cautious. This one has a surplus of it. Until now, Viktor was afraid that maybe Five couldn't jump.

Setting the two options side-by-side, he's not actually sure which is worse. Was it Five's confidence that was affected by the last botched temporal shift? Or, are these growing pains of sorts? Courage can live alongside caution -- something Viktor had to learn.

Viktor's face is hot. He's pinned to the spot, drinkless, trapped. Five doesn't move. Viktor doesn't speak.

Suddenly, it seems so juvenile. Regardless of actual age, Five's in his emotional infancy. Viktor is maybe barely in his teens -- and when he loses it, the damage amounts to much more than a broken hinge on a door petulantly slammed.

It's been a long time since he lost control. Or took a risk. Too long. Is it even a risk when it's a kiss to break a spell from a man he spends half of his day sitting far too close to?

Viktor holds a steady hand out in invitation. A corner of his mouth quirks with a question -- a friendly your move in the chess match they've been playing for far longer than adults have any right to.