Oh, good, other civilized people who didn't try to manhandle him before bothering with a greeting. Besides Yuuri, of course. He couldn't say he wasn't grateful. "Got it covered, Michelle, thank you," he said, lifting the travel mug he'd found lurking in one of his cupboards. "French press is the only way to do coffee. Whoever has been providing for us, clearly has good taste."
Makka returned to his side as he sat back on the table with a donut in hand, which he demolished in short order. "Vkusno!" he approved, licking his fingers. "Coffee and donuts, it's almost like being home again. Oh, I'm Viktor, and this is Makkachin," he said, scratching his dog's ear. "I hope no one minds I brought her. I didn't want to leave her behind."