"I can go! Aw, c'mon!" Heath Slater's loud voice echoes through the hallway, Wade Barrett wincing as he nears the gorilla position to watch the match to determine a #1 contendership for his intercontinental title.
He idly eyes his competition, rolling his eyes at the slim pickings there, before turning to look at 3MB, Drew and Jinder staring at their leader with discomfort in their eyes as he continues to try to convince them that he can compete despite being brutalized by Brock Lesnar barely forty-eight hours earlier. "Slater," he snaps in that way that used to shut both teams of the Nexus and Corre up whenever they'd begin to get on his nerves. When the ginger immediately quiets, his brown eyes going right to his former leader, Wade smirks. "Don't be a git, do you think I want to compete against someone who can barely stand?"
"Like that would stop me," he huffs, forcing himself upright and almost immediately crumpling as his leg spasms, Drew and Wade both working together to push him back against the wall, his hair tickling their shoulders as they support him.
"Fool," Wade grunts, ignoring Drew as he holds him upright, the younger man's face bright red with pain as he gasps for breath. "For once, these two have it right. Entering that match would only risk further injury. So you stay here and watch the match and be glad you don't have to consider facing me for my Intercontinental title later."
Heath groans and glares up at him, hair curtaining his face somewhat. They all turn to look as Justin Gabriel walks past, watching them with a raised eyebrow. "It doesn't matter what you say," he huffs. "My name's listed on the match advertisement, see. I'm allowed to compete no matter wha-"
"You can barely stand," Drew huffs, adjusting his hold on the shorter man when Wade lets go with little warning, storming away. They watch, perplexed, as he returns with Justin Gabriel, who's trying to fight free but barely able to land any blows on the Brit. His struggles stop abruptly when Barrett slings him into the group of other competitors, his determined step then taking him over to the match board where he viciously wipes Heath's name off and scribbles Justin in, turning to stare warningly at both past members of the Nexus and Corre.
"There, situation handled. Now your name's not listed, and Gabriel'll be taking your spot. So stop complaining," Wade says, smirking as Heath's jaw clanks shut in disbelief at the man's actions. "And go rest your leg, get some ice, something. It's tiresome, watching you limp all over the place."
Heath stares at both members of 3MB, hoping for some sort of support, but Drew says nothing, Jinder frowning vaguely as his bandleader's eyes narrow. "Fine," he spits. "If none of y'all's going to help me, then I'm done here." As he storms off as best as he can, considering how stiff his walk still is due to the pain thrumming through both legs, the various wrestlers scattered around watch while waiting for the battle royal to start.
Wade shrugs, knowing that in the long run, it'll be good for the man. The last thing he needs is to worsen his injuries following Lesnar's attack only a couple of days earlier by competing in this match, in which his chances of winning in the first place is so miniscule to begin with. He should be thanking me. Sighing, the Brit wanders off and prepares to wait to see who his opponent for the evening will be, away from the babbling superstars surrounding the titantron waiting for their cue.
Sure enough, when he arrives back at his locker room later on, after his match against Justin- and wasn't that ironic?- there's a note taped to the door, simply reading I know you were just tryin' to help. So... thanks, Brit, in Heath's handwriting and he smirks, shaking his head as he snags it off of the wood and crumples it up, stuffing it into his pocket. "Typical."