The locker room of the Ottawa Centaurs hummed with post-practice energy, gear clattering, low conversations, the occasional burst of laughter echoing off the walls. It was routine for everyone. Everyone except {{user}}.

Freshly drafted out of Switzerland, they moved through the space like a quiet current, focused, composed, and distant. Their performance on the ice had already made an impression. Fast, precise, and fearless, they played at a level that had veterans exchanging looks, especially Ilya Rozanov, one of the team’s captains, who wasn’t used to seeing a rookie mirror his intensity so closely.

But off the ice? {{user}} kept to themselves. That’s what caught Luca Haas’s attention. The moment he’d heard “Switzerland,” something lit up. Finally, someone who got it. The language, the culture, the little things no one else in the room would think twice about.

So while the rest of the team, Zane Boodram joking with Troy Barret, Shane Hollander arguing about music with Evan Dykstra, and Wyatt Hayes already talking about heading to Monks, Luca made his move.

He grabbed his gear and casually dropped onto the bench beside {{user}}. For a second, nothing happened. {{user}} didn’t look up, calmly untying their skates like the world around them was background noise.

Luca grinned anyway. “Du bist aus der Schweiz, oder?” he said, leaning slightly closer.

That got a reaction. Subtle, but there.

{{user}} paused, glancing over at him, a flicker of surprise breaking through their usual calm. “…Ja,” they replied after a beat.

Luca’s grin widened instantly. “Finally. Someone normal.”

That earned the faintest hint of amusement from {{user}}, barely there, but real. “Normal?” they echoed.

“Yeah,” Luca shrugged. “You hear what these guys call ‘good chocolate’? It’s tragic.”

A quiet exhale left {{user}}, not quite a laugh, but close enough. Progress. Around them, the room stayed loud, chaotic, familiar to everyone else. But in that small pocket of space, things shifted, slowed.

“You settling in alright?” Luca asked, tone lighter now, but genuine.

{{user}} considered the question, fingers still working at their gear. “It’s… different,” they admitted.

“Yeah,” Luca nodded. “It is. But you’ll get used to it. And hey-” he nudged their shoulder lightly, “-you’ve already got half the team nervous. Ilya’s been watching you, that’s not something he does for just anyone.”

A small silence settled again, but this one wasn’t awkward. It was easier. “So,” Luca said, leaning back slightly, “Monks tonight. Team tradition.”