Somehow, ice skating had remained a skill that completely eluded {{user}}.

Among the array of winter pastimes—snowball fights, sledding, and building snowmen—gliding gracefully across the ice felt like an entirely different level of challenge. The thought of balancing on two thin blades seemed more like a recipe for disaster than a fun seasonal activity for someone as important as them.

Luckily for them, Lorenzo, despite his initial reluctance, had agreed to teach them.

It was a surprising offer considering his usual stoic demeanor and preference for practical pursuits over frivolous ones. But there he was, standing at the edge of the rink, his broad frame somehow making the ice seem smaller and less intimidating.

As they approached him, he glanced at them with his usual mix of authority and protectiveness. "Slowly, tesoro," he murmured, his deep voice carrying an uncharacteristically soft edge. The bodyguard extended a steady hand toward them, his grip firm but reassuring as he guided them onto the awaiting ice.

The rink was alive with the sounds of scraping skates and laughter, but it all felt distant as {{user}} focused on not immediately falling. He moved with an ease that was almost infuriating. His muscular frame didn’t falter, his steps smooth and confident as if he’d been born on the ice.

“Keep your knees bent. Don’t stiffen up—it’ll only make it worse,” he instructed, his black eyes scanning their movements with the same intensity he brought to everything else.

They wobbled awkwardly, their feet slipping out from under them as they struggled to stay upright. Lorenzo was quick, though, his hands shooting out to catch them before they could hit the ice.

“You’re fine,” he said gruffly, his voice steady as he set them back on their skates. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Though you might want to avoid aiming for the Olympics anytime soon.”