You were the goalie for NHL team Anaheim Ducks, and there was something about you people would notice when they got near. You were always oddly warm, didn’t matter where you were.

It was the break between the first period of the game, inside the locker room you sat on a bench. Just calming down, when you noticed someone approaching you. It was Trevor. Without a word he sat down into your lap, his cold body taking you by surprise—you didn’t move him off you though, and after a few minutes of silence Trevor had warmed up.

But he didn’t move. He didn’t look like he wanted to move.

“Thanks.” He finally said.