It was the night of Money in the Bank 2013, the night ended with most betrayals than ever thought, but for those people who have won, they were out celebrating. Except one Mr. Money in the Bank, Randy Orton. He never felt the need to go out with other people and celebrate, he always drank alone, as he said before. Tonight he would not be the one drinking, he felt no need to and honestly, he needed his sleep- not a hangover. It was about an hour after the show, and as he walked through the arena, not many others were there. He smiled at the fact, that meant no one would be in the showers for when he got there. He opened the door leading into the showers and stepped in, closing and locking it behind him. Right when he reached for his wrestling gear, he heard grumbling... or... was that groaning? He raised an eyebrow and as he made his way through the rather large room, he saw a familiar figure sitting on the bench. He walked over to the other man and huffed out a laugh.

"Sure sucks to be you... Phil." olive eyes glared up at Randy's cold, blue ones, then looked away.

"Shut up." he hissed. Randy raised an eyebrow, he had seen Paul turn on the older man, and he was sure Phil was pissed at him for taking that opportunity to win the whole match.

"Nothing else to say?"

"What's to say?" the straight edge huffed, swiftly getting up so he could at least try to be eye-to-eye with the taller man, "I hate you? I hate Paul? I hate everyone? I hate myself? Cause if that's what I'm supposed to say, I said it. Get out of my way, I don't need your shit."

Randy huffed, "Not with that attitude, you little shit. How many staples did you get?" Phil shook his head.

"Does it matter? Thirteen. Fuck off."

"It was every man for himself..."

That comment could have sent anyone over the edge, and that's exactly what it did to Phil, "Every... you know what, Randal?! I don't blame you! If that happened to you and if I was in your position, I would have taken the chance too! I... I blame myself!"

"Phil-"

"No- no- you shut the fuck up! I created this... facade about Paul always being there for me friend-wise. I don't know what I did to deserve this! I believed him! Me! When no one else did! I trusted him! You know how hard that is for me?! Bah- why am I telling you this?! You! Out of all people!" he laughed, "Get out of my way." Randy glared down at the other man, then stepped aside. Phil rushed pass him and walked out the door, leaving Randy staring at him in almost disbelief.

"Disrespectful little..." he huffed then made his way for the showers, turning the water on and while he was waiting, he let himself think about the Straight Edge man. The two have hated each other for the longest of time, and he didn't even know why he hated the smaller man. No, he didn't hate him at all. In fact... he rather liked him. Phil was the man who could stand up to anyone, who wasn't afraid of taking risks- and that's exactly what Randy liked. What he didn't like, was the fact Phil thought he was in charge around here. The Viper glanced up at the steam coming from the water and grinned, stripping himself from his clothes and stepping into the shower. Who exactly did Phil think he was? He could snap that little shit in half if he wanted to. Though, it was no lie when he said he didn't hate the other man at all. Randy ran his hand through his short hair to get it wet, then he reached for the shampoo and started to wash his hair.. he couldn't say he even liked Phil. For a short time, he had been lusting for the other man. Why him- he would never know. He didn't necessarily 'love' him, but man, when people stood up to him, it was a immediate turn-on.

"I'll show him who's who..." Randy huffed with a laugh, even though he lusted after Phil, he knew the other man would not feel the same way about him. So what was he to do? Hide the emotion? He couldn't. He had tried to so hard for whenever he had a match with the older man on RAW a few weeks back, and even then, tugging his hair more than usual... longer holds.. it was obvious he wanted in between the thighs of the saint. Randy hissed and rinsed his hair out, grabbing the bar of soap and quickly washing his body, getting out as soon as he was done and snatching a towel of the racket whenever he dried himself off. He also knew one thing about that asshole of a man, and he didn't do one night stands. Especially with a certain Apex Predator. He huffed, hopefully he could devise a plan before RAW, to the least. Randy wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up his ring gear, aiming for his locker room and once he got there, he put on his street clothes and packed up, throwing his bag over his shoulder and then his next destination would be the hotel. Yes, that's what he would do. As soon as he got to the hotel, he'd get himself some dinner and devise a plan. For that's all it would take.

A plan.