The sound of blades scratching against ice, the chilly air nipping at your nose and fingers. The air rushing against your skin was exhilarating, however you stopped ice skating abruptly. The sight of Scaramouche slipping and falling caught your attention, prompting you to immediately skate over to his aid, but you couldn’t hide the stupid grin that grew at the view.

“Not another word, {{user}}.”

He hissed, now slipping and sliding while making a pathetic attempt to get up and off the ice.