Crane gripped Abbie's gloved hands with fervor, holding on for dear life, as she led him further and further from the entrance to the rink. She tugged him along steadily, as his long legs wobbled uncontrollably. He was having trouble balancing on the tiny blades he was hoisted upon. Why in good heavens had he agreed to this? Is this what people in this time called fun? Out of all the absurd things that modern people did, and they did a great multitude, this had to be the most asinine. Yes, ice skating, had been an enjoyable activity in his time, but not like this. Ice skating should be nothing like this.
This was inside, not on a frozen creek or river, and the ice was completely, and unnaturally smooth. His stakes were also all wrong, much too high. There we no bumps or ridges to provide traction since a monstrously large machine that Abbie had called a Zamboni had scoured the ice.
He slipped a little, rotating his ankle in a slightly uncomfortable direction, and huffed.
"Lieutenant, I find I rather do not find this "fun" as you proclaimed it would be. "In fact, I find it quite tiresome and am surprised you do not find it so. You seem to be exerting a lot of energy yourself."
She shrugged looking up at him. Her eyes sparkled under the strong fluorescent lights.
"Oh, you mean the energy it's taking to get you out here?" she quipped with a laugh, "You'll be fine, Crane. Couple of times around the rink and you'll be a pro. I promise."
"And how can you be so certain?"
She shrugged her shoulders and smirked at him knowingly. Crane was a smart guy. He'd master this in no time, well, as long as he didn't get stubborn and quit.
"I dunno, just put one foot in front of the other?" she suggested after faux contemplation.
"Ah, a Wizard of Oz reference. I quite liked that book. I heard there's a film. We'll have to view it sometime.
She wrestled her left hand from Crane's death grip and turned around now skating forward dragging him only by one hand now.
"See, already better."
"Hmph."
By now, Crane and Abby were nearing the middle of the rink. He was gliding more smoothly, no longer doing the awkward shuffling first time skaters usually do.
"I haven't gone ice skating since I was but a young lad," Crane admitted, "I remember the lake near my home in England froze thoroughly enough to walk on when I was ten. Much to my mother's chagrin, my brothers and I went out on it. Not in skates though, with rackets tied to our shoes. It was exceedingly fun.
"Yeah?" She questioned curiously. He didn't talk about his childhood much, so this was a nice change.
"Indeed," he paused lost in the memory. He cleared his throat.
"If you don't mind me inquiring, where did you acquire your ice skating skills, Lieutenant? You're quite good."
"Well, back in foster care, they'd try to do fun stuff with us kids from the group home. Every year, around the holiday season, we'd take a couple of trips to the rink. I kinda loved it and ever since I've been making my own money, I come here a practice once in a while."
A tiny little girl dressed in an ice skating costume darted in front of Crane. He tried to avoid her, and lost his balance. He went tumbling down to the ice's cold surface, yanking Abbie with him.
The unharmed little girl, who looked about 6, circled once around them with her hands on her hips.
"You're not supposed to hold hands on the ice," she chided confidently, "Everyone knows that. Even if you're boyfriend and girlfriend."
Abbie chuckled from the floor. What a brazen little girl, telling adults what they should and should be doing.
Crane, thought to protest. Abbie was not his girlfriend. But then he thought better of it. He didn't have to explain himself to a child. Plus, was it really so bad if people thought he was Abbie's boyfriend.
"Isabelle," they heard a voice call in the distance, "Say sorry and get back over here."
The little girl mumbled her apologies skated away.
Abbie got up and offered Crane her hand. He took it.
"I'm glad you invited me Miss Mills."
A slow grin spread across her face. "Me too."
