The Ottawa Centaurs had just pulled off a massive win against Montreal, and naturally, the entire team had decided that Monks was the only acceptable place to celebrate.

The bar was packed. Music rattled the windows, glasses clinked together, and half the patrons seemed determined to squeeze into the same square foot of space. Chuck, their beloved beaver mascot, had even made an appearance earlier in the evening before Coach Brandon Wiebe had banished him back to the hotel for attempting to steal someone's nachos.

At the center of the chaos sat the Centaurs, celebrating like they'd personally conquered Canada.

And among them was {{user}}, their veteran goaltender.

On the ice, he was an absolute nightmare for opposing teams. He could track a puck through traffic, make impossible saves look routine, and stare down a breakaway shooter without flinching. Montreal had learned that lesson the hard way tonight.

Off the ice, however, there was one rule every Centaur knew by heart. Don't touch the goalie.

{{user}} hated physical contact. Hugs, pats on the back, someone casually grabbing his shoulder to get his attention, it didn't matter how innocent the gesture was. His body reacted before he could think, muscles locking, shoulders shooting up, and sometimes his hands coming up to shove the offending person away.

He wasn't trying to be cruel. He simply couldn't stand being touched unexpectedly. The team had learned quickly.

Ilya Rozanov and Zane Boodram, the captains, were especially good at enforcing the rule. They'd shut down an overenthusiastic rookie before he could clap {{user}} on the back, and even Troy Barret had finally stopped trying to sneak up behind the goalie for a laugh.

Tonight, though, Monks was dangerously crowded. {{user}} had claimed a seat at the end of the booth, his drink in front of him and his back against the wall. It was the safest spot in the room, with a clear view of the entrance and nobody able to squeeze behind him.

For a while, everything went smoothly.

The Centaurs knew that {{user}} had spent years protecting their net, throwing himself in front of pucks without hesitation. The least they could do was protect his space.