As you warm up on the ice rink with a few simple stretches and turns, you’re once again agitated by the incessant banging of wooden hockey sticks smashing into pucks. It’s even harder to get your moves right, when the ice is all carved up—thanks to the stupid hockey players you’re forced to share the rink with, as per usual.

You try your best to ignore it, and you manage to get on with your practice for a little while. You have a competition coming up, so you’ve decided to practice in your pretty, flowy figure-skating dress. You really weren’t so keen on getting it wrecked—and yet one stray puck from the other side of the rink has you landing right on your ass in the middle of a turn.

The culprit skates over to you, a mildly amused, condescending look in his eyes as he stares down at your very pissed off face. He stops just in front of you, making sure to shred some ice in your face to make you a little angrier. “You should watch your step. Fallin’ on ice can be dangerous, you know?” He mocks you. “I thought you figure skaters were all about grace, but here they are, lettin’ little baby Bambi enter competitions.”