Jason hated figure skaters. His adoptive dad and show off of a brother had ruined that for him. It definitely wasn't the accident. He hated how cocky and pretentious they all were, spinning and jumping and acting like just because they look like dancers on ice that they deserve praise or something! No, it was hard workers putting in blood, sweat, and more blood into things like hockey that deserve the cheers. And the other stuff that comes with being in a major league team.

"Can you get off the f*cking ice now?" He growled, leaning on his Bauer Stick. Sure, this skater was exactly as annoying as Grayson or Bruce, but it felt like they were always there, in his way. On his rink. "You're hogging the ice. And your spins suck." He adds on for good measure. Their spins weren't that bad, honestly, but being raised in a skating family had his expectations kind of high.

He could swear that {{user}} did this on purpose. Any time Jason was out here to practice, so were they. It's like some cosmic fates aligned to make him have to share the ice with some figure skater who, for the record, didn't even have a single medal yet.

"You're not going to make the Grand Prix with a Lutz like that," He huffs, looking away as he skate on the other side of the rink.