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He was Russian so he should be good at this right? Right? Mordred was a kid who threw herself headfirst into things, and ice skating was no different. Sure, she was likely to be terrible at it, but hey, never knew until you tried. Or in Mory's case, clung to the rail until she yelled '******** IT!' (much the the shock of a few other skaters) and threw herself into the rink.

Now, she was getting it down.. mildy. Garbed in her oversized holiday sweater from Banks, she looked for her guardian. Hopefully, by the end of the day, she'd have a nice photo to send him to show yet another side of her papa.

"PeitroooooOOOOOOO" She yelled for him, suddenly realizing that in stopping, she was stuck. Moving she could maintain. Dead stop- somehow less so.

"Sorry Papa." She sighed. She did know better given they were in public and such outbursts were rather dramatic, even for her. "Gravity hates me." She remarked, grabbing his hand and quickly moving to grab his coat. He legs wobbled a bit, but at the least, she didn't end up falling or kicking him by accident.

"How come you just- augh. You did actual circles around me. 'S not fair." Even when she knew he probably knew how to skate and would be better.

"Can you do a jump though?" She could stick near the rails, but Mory was curious just how good her guardian was. "I could record it and send it to Banks."

She glared at the ice it had personally offended her, mumbling under her breath about he lack of clumsiness. Grabbing him as he helped her back to the railing she bit her lip in thought.
"Come on." She finally said, hands now firmly gripping the rail, no longer at risk for Kavinsky letting her go because of her sass. "You KNOW he'd get a kick out of it- besides, he's practically my 3rd dad now with how often he comes over." She brought up her phone, wiggling it in the air.

"We could also take a nice picture for himmmmm" she sang. "It'd be cuteeeee."

It wouldn't have mattered if Kavinsky had or had not told Mory about his and Banks relationship. As far as the teen was concerned, they were friends and even if just friends, Banks was an honarary dad. Because thems the rules. It's the consequences of feeding a hungry teenager more than once and with things she liked to eat no less. It was just how the world worked. According to Mory anyway.

"Hrmmmmm." Pretending like she was being given a bad choice the dramatics only faded into a wide mouthed grin. "I GUESS we could take a photo together." With all the enthusiasm and malice a teen had she pushed off the railing, headed right for Kavinsky phone already out and likely taking video.

Landing right where she'd planed to be, Mory was grinning ear to ear, the shutter of the camera going off rapid fire. "Извините, опасность - мое второе имя." Actually, she legally had none but that was besides the point.

She grabbed at his arm, keeping steady and looking around at the others on the rink. Families, dates- and for once, she didn't feel so alone. Like she stood out or didn't belong.
"You know what would make this day complete Peitro?" She said, scrolling through her phone.

"Sending this to Banks." Her smug knife cat smile was wide as she hit send, knowing the poor man would soon seen Kavinsky's face and Mory's mashed up in an impromptu picture of childish glee and stern adult concern.

Even with the warning edging into his voice, the teen couldn't help but smile, gripping his arm to keep upright. It was nice to be scolded in a way. He cared. He cared and that was what mattered.

"You won't. How else will you know if I'm running around at night fighting crimes, meeting boys, or committing arson?" She replied all to gleeful, knowing he'd likely snatch it up and hold it over her until later.

"Besides, Banks likes it when I send him pics." Of Peitro and her being cute maybe. 4 am photos of memes probably not.