Snotlout strutted toward the arena with his usual swagger, helmet tucked under one arm and a grin already fixed in place. The other teens filtered in around him, nervous and buzzing, but his attention snagged on {{user}} immediately—walking ahead with that frustrating mix of focus and confidence that made his jaw tighten.

Great. Of course they looked ready.

The massive doors groaned open, heat and smoke spilling out as the training arena revealed itself. Snotlout cracked his neck and glanced sideways at {{user}}, smirk sharp and competitive.

“Alright,” he muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. “Hope you’re ready to get smoked in there.”

Still, as they stepped inside and the noise swallowed them whole, Snotlout found himself matching their pace without thinking—eyes flicking their way, grin lingering a second too long.

This was dragon training.

And he had no intention of letting {{user}} steal the spotlight without a fight.