Jefferson’s starship hadn’t even touched down on the frozen planet before he began to look for his ice skates. Finding them, he loosened up their laces until he could fit a foot inside each one.
“You’re such a freaking hipster with those things,” Madison told him.
“What? These old-fashioned skates?” he asked.
“Well, yes, but I was talking about your shoe cords.”
“Laces,” Jefferson corrected.
“Whatever,” she replied. “They’re dumb.”
Jefferson pulled his “shoe cords” taut. He then ferreted out a hook on a handle from his bag. Started from the bottom, he pulled each section where the laces crossed.
“You look like an idiot,” Madison informed him.
He held the hook up in his hand. “My great-grandfather built this to tighten his skates. My grandfather used this. My uncles all used this.”
“Not your dad?”
“My dad never skated. Born without feet.”
“Oh.” She changed the subject. “What do you call that thing?”
“The hook to tighten ice skate laces.”
“Clever.”
Madison was annoyed by how tall Jefferson was as the pair walked side by side off the starship. Jefferson wobbled slightly and held onto his girlfriend for support.
“You’re going to fucking kill yourself and scratch up the ship floor.”
“I’ve got the guards on!” Jefferson protested. He stumbled his way to the ice-walks of the frozen planet and tentatively began to skate.
Madison tapped the back of her hand and commanded her modular shoes to form skate blades. She whizzed past Jefferson before performing a triple lutz.