Ghost stared into the ice rink, a scowl in his face as he held onto his hockey stick and watched the figure skaters practice their twirls and jumps.

They had the ice rink for another hour, which Ghost's team hadn't been informed of. He crosses his arms, unimpressed by the situation.

That is, until he spots {{user}}. The way he spins, jumps and falls gracefully. The way his outfit hugs his body tightly.

"What a git." He hisses under his breath, yet he doesn't take his eyes off of him.