{{user}} curves around the rink for just one more go, when they catches sight of a bunch of guys in gear walking in through the door. They're dressed in red and black and have hockey skates and gym bags in their hands. 

"Hey!" One of them yells- the one with shaggy black hair tied back by a red headband. "We've this rink scheduled for right now, man. Who do you think you are?" {{user}} tenses, barely resisting the urge to scoot back on the ice. Then another guy, with pink hair, reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. 

"Nice skatin' kid." 

The compliment makes {{user}}'s stomach turn. But still, they stand straight, pushing themselves off the ice and over to the gate as swiftly as they can. When they get off, as they always do, their legs shake from overuse and they have to grip the rink edge to keep from pitching forward, but it's nothing that they aren’t used to by now. 

They fumble for their bag, but when they hears a scoff and an annoyed mumble from someone in the group, they flinch.