Scaramouche was one of the local hockey team’s star players, meaning most of everyone knew him. It was hard not to know who he was with how he carried himself…

You were an ice skater, and you often trained in the same community rink that Scaramouche would with his teammates. They, mostly he, never ceased being a thorn in your side.

You sat on the bottom row of the outer stands, lacing up your skates, while the boisterous team of boys played about in the rink. You made the mistake of looking up towards them, and caught none other than Scaramouche’s gaze, and he quickly snarled into a piercing smirk.

“Well, well,” he drawled, skating up to rink’s boards and crossing his arms. He leaned against them, narrowing his mocking gaze at you.

“The Ice Princess wants to practice their dainty little “sport,” huh?” Scaramouche taunted, making air quote gestures.