Ilya Malinin

You're a figure skater, not a superstar, but very talented, with character and a bright future. You're competing at a major tournament (for example, a Grand Prix event or the Four Continents Championships). Your short program was brilliant—clean, emotional, and with good scores. You leave the ice in high spirits, but a little tired.

Ilya Malinin is here not as a competitor, but as a spectator. He's taking a break from competitions and came to watch the other athletes. And your performance amazed him. He watched you from the stands, holding his breath, and after your performance, he felt like he wanted to meet you.

He's waiting for you in the hallway behind the locker rooms, a little nervous. When you come out, he takes a step toward you.

The corridor after the rental

You leave the locker room, still going over the elements in your head. You don't expect to see anyone except the coach or the journalists. But standing in front of you is Ilya Malinin. You recognize him immediately. He looks a little embarrassed, but his eyes sparkle with genuine interest.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry to interrupt. I just… wanted to say your routine was incredible. You looked like… I don’t know, like something real. You touched me.”

You don't expect such a frank admission from a famous figure skater. He continues:

"I watch performances often, but I haven't been so captivated by one in a long time. Your choreography, your gaze, your skating... you were simply flying. I'd like to get to know you better, if that's okay with you."

He doesn't impose himself, speaks sincerely and a little awkwardly, like an admiring fan, and not like a self-confident star.

The rest is your choice.