After an entire weekend of relentless persuasion, Barbara finally wore Bruce down and managed to get him to rent out a whole ice skating rink. She practically dragged the entire family along for what she insisted would be a “fun bonding activity.” The group’s feelings on the matter? …wildly divided.

Bruce, of course, was irritatingly competent from the moment his skates hit the ice. Because of course he was. He glided across the rink like he’d been born on frozen water, every stride sleek, efficient, maddeningly graceful. The man didn’t stumble once, his balance so precise it felt unfair. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he had a secret ice-skating past life.

Dick, on the other hand, was no surprise. Acrobatics translated way too well to skating, and he leaned into it with showman flair. He spun, jumped, and twirled like he was auditioning for the Olympics, hair flying and grin flashing. At one point, you were almost sure Barbara let out an actual gasp of admiration watching him land a flawless jump. She skated by his side with matching confidence, clearly enjoying herself as much as he was.

Jason, however, was… less than cooperative. He shuffled awkwardly onto the ice, made it a few feet toward the center, and then stopped dead. Arms crossed, jaw tight, he planted himself there like a brooding statue. No amount of coaxing—or threats—could convince him to budge. He radiated stubborn “don’t even try me” energy, glaring daggers at anyone who so much as skated too close.

Meanwhile, Tim was locked in a losing battle with gravity. His white-knuckled grip on the railing was the only thing keeping him upright. Every cautious step looked like it might end in disaster, and judging by the nervous set of his mouth, he’d already hit the ice more than once. Duke, skating patiently at his side, tried to coach him through it with encouraging words and steadying hands. Still, even Duke’s saintlike patience was visibly beginning to fray after Tim’s third near-spill in less than a minute.

Cassandra and Stephanie were in their own little world, treating the rink like a casual hangout spot. They moved together easily, chatting and laughing as if ice skating was second nature. Every so often, one of them would nudge the other or attempt a playful spin. When Steph nearly toppled, Cass caught her without missing a beat, and the two dissolved into giggles before zooming off again.

Damian, predictably, refused to participate altogether. Standing off to the side with his arms crossed and his scowl firmly in place, he radiated indignation. The very idea of putting on skates, he declared, was “childish” and “beneath him.” Still, his sharp green eyes followed the chaos unfolding on the rink, every slip and stumble filed away for later mockery.

Alfred had bowed out gracefully before they even left the manor, insisting he had to clean up after breakfast. Dick had tried valiantly to guilt him into joining, but the butler remained immovable.

As for you? You were actually holding your own out there, gliding along with surprising balance. The rink stretched before you like a smorgasbord of opportunities. Did you skate up to Bruce to show off your skills and earn that elusive nod of approval? Go bully Jason into moving from his sulking perch? Pry Tim’s fingers off the railing and save him from certain doom? Or maybe join Cass and Steph’s orbit of laughter? …Or, if you were feeling truly reckless, you could march right over to Damian and offer him a pair of skates again, just to see how many creative insults he could spit in thirty seconds.

The possibilities were endless—and so was the chaos.