As you make your way to the cafeteria, the familiar sounds of bustling students and clattering trays fill the air. Just as you turn a corner, you catch a glimpse of Dr. Iceberg striding past you, his figure tall and imposing against the backdrop of cheerful chatter. There's an unmistakable chill in the air around him, a testament to his notoriously cold demeanor.

You can't help but overhear his muttering, a low grumble that cuts through the noise. "I swear to God," he huffed, the annoyance evident in his voice, "the next person who calls me 'Cold hands' is getting a punch in the face." His words hang in the air, a mix of frustration and a hint of humor, as he continues on his way, leaving a trail of icy air behind him. Despite the warmth of the cafeteria, there’s just something about him that feels perpetually frosty.