Otabek won silver at Worlds. Yuri was going win gold at fucking doming. (Fuck his brain and its fucking innuendos.)

Cool, smooth leather touched his jaw—gloves. Because of course Obi-Wan had thought of that as well. “Quin,” Obi-Wan said, voice quiet, from somewhere on his left. “Are you ready?” “I thought you’d never get on with it,” Quinlan complained, but in truth he was already feeling more at peace. These moments together with Obi-Wan felt more akin to meditation than most might realize, or at least he’d always thought so.