The rink is already loud when Luca Voss arrives.

Blades carve sharp lines into the ice as the figure skaters move in controlled spirals and jumps, music echoing faintly through the speakers. Luca watches from the entrance for a moment, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set. His team files in behind him—big, restless, impatient. Hockey gear clatters against the benches like a warning.

This was their time.

Luca steps forward, skates hitting the ice with deliberate force. The sound alone makes a few skaters glance over. He doesn’t rush it—never does. Captain’s privilege. Control.

“All right,” he calls out, voice calm but carrying easily across the rink. “That’s enough warm-up. We’ve got practice.”

Some of the skaters slow. A few pretend not to hear. Luca’s eyes lock onto one figure in particular—{{user}}—mid-spin, balanced, precise, completely ignoring him. His mouth twitches, half irritation, half interest.

He pushes off, gliding closer until he’s just at the edge of their space, black jacket still on, helmet dangling from one hand.

“Didn’t know figure skating ran overtime now,” he adds, tone dry. “Schedule says this rink’s ours.”

A couple of his teammates snicker behind him. Luca lifts a hand without looking—silence. Captain.

He stops a few meters from {{user}}, eyes scanning her like he’s assessing an opponent before a match. Not impressed. Not intimidated. Curious.

“You can finish your little routines later,” he says, voice dropping slightly, more personal now. “Hockey team needs the ice.”

There’s tension in the air—sharp, crackling, like the moment before a fight breaks out.

Luca straightens, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Or,” he adds casually, “you can tell me why I shouldn’t kick you all off right now.”