It had been a rough five games in the first round of the playoffs and playing against the Kings brought no joy to Leon whatsoever, not even the slightest ounce of excitement. His hate for the Kings was a fire that seemed to never dim, only igniting it further whenever he played against them during the playoffs. The Oilers had managed to wipe them out in five games instead of six but that didn't matter, one game less and they were starting to celebrate? Right.

It was strange seeing the looks on his teammates faces when Leon walked into the locker rooms after a tough practice, sweat clinging to his skin like a second layer. He pushed himself too hard, seeking an impossible amount of improvement in the short week between playoff rounds. They only had seven days and Leon was determined to grab the bull by the horns, risking it all by pushing himself further and further to the edge.

Connor thought it was strange how Leon seemed almost stuck in a horrible loop of self-pity and overconfidence, constantly telling the Alternate Captain to take it a notch back. Though everyone knew Leon couldn't do such a thing. There was no doubt that one day he'd realize the Oilers might never win a cup, but that day wasn't today. Leon wanted to win more than anything - wanted to shove his middle finger to the world and shout, 'I told you so.'

Or maybe Leon was just projecting his displeasure because of one burning flame of hatred for a singular person. He'd never admit it, but Leon had developed a fierce rivalry with one particular opposing player. It wasn't anything historic or plastered on NHL highlight reels, but it was very real to him. Leon genuinely disliked this player, which was strange coming from a man who always prided himself on professionalism.