New Years Eve. What to most is viewed as a chance at new beginnings, a fresh start. To Ricardo Rodriguez, however, it's nothing more than another failed attempt at proving himself. Only an hour earlier, he'd been thrown into a match against the Big Show- and lost. Despite promising Alberto Del Rio that he'd win in his honor, despite his very best attempts. In the end, he'd still needed rescued and the World title remained with the much larger athlete.

He's staring anxiously at the pure white tablecloth covering the table before him, wondering where exactly the Mexican aristocrat had gone, when finally he reappears and sits across from the ring announcer, a small frown on his face as he examines his friend. "Ricardo, are you alright?"

Ricardo blinks, looking up. "Huh? Oh..." His chest is still raw from all of the strikes that Show had landed on him, and he'd had to change shirts again when his dress shirt had been torn open, but he'd been pulled to safety before the KO punch had landed. He knows it could be worse, and yet... "I'm fine," he says, realizing without even looking at Alberto that it's not very convincing.

"Do you need the trainer?" Del Rio insists, not letting this go. "Por favor, amigo, I just want to help you."

He feels a myriad of emotions at this- not fully used to Alberto paying this much attention to him... not that he'd completely ignored him in the past when he'd been hurt or in need of something, but previously his career goals had always been at the forefront of his mind, and now... as important as he might still find moving up in the business, something had changed in the past few weeks, and he'd begun caring more about other things around him. Like Ricardo. It's a welcome change, yes, but still somewhat confusing to the ring announcer. Which was why, after their discussion earlier and how Del Rio had shown regret for his actions towards Ricardo in the past, the younger man had been more determined than ever to bring the World title to their side. But he'd failed, and here they are.

Even so, the more he looks at Alberto's worried face, the more he just wants to admit this to him, prove that it's not physical. Merely his uncomfortable awareness that he'd failed his employer again. Finally he stares down at his hands, pressing them together anxiously, and speaks what's on his mind. "I'm sorry."

A long, vacant pause and Del Rio clears his throat. "What for, Ricardo? You did nothing wrong."

"I vowed to win tonight's match in your honor, and I failed. Again." He takes a breath. "So I'm sorry." More silence as Ricardo peers at his hands, almost scared to look up, when warm, bronze fingers wraps around his own and squeezes carefully. Surprised, the ring announcer stares at them for a moment before peering over at Alberto, surprised to find that look from earlier back in his eyes- regret and affection wrapped together in the confusing little package that their friendship had recently become. "El Patron..."

"You didn't fail," he tells him. "In fact, you did quite well. I am a regular competitor and I still have difficulties making that giant perro vulnerable. Considering how rarely you wrestle, I would say you did spectacular. How many get in there and get very little to no offense on him, after all? You, mi amigo, surprised him. I doubt he was expecting any of that." He smiles while rubbing circles in Ricardo's wrist. "Don't look at it as a failure. I don't see it that way."

Ricardo releases a soft breath, wavering on his employer's words. "Si?"

"Si." He smiles as Ricardo's face brightens, slowly accepting his encouragement.

As he pats the younger man's hands, Ricardo's eyes wander over to a nearby TV screen. "It's nearly midnight, El Patron."

"Oh." As the time slowly ticks down towards 2013, Del Rio stands and moves his chair to the other side of the table until it's next to Ricardo's, sitting down and watching with his ring announcer as everyone prepares for the ball in Times Square to drop. They're still sitting there when staff of the restuarant begin wandering around, placing flutes of fancy looking champagne on each table, including their own. He grins when the ring announcer glances over at him, suspecting that that's where his employer had gone earlier. As the ball drops and the new year arrives, they sit side by side and watch quietly. "Happy New Year, Ricardo."

"Happy New Year, El Patron," he echoes back, smile growing. 2012 had not come close to starting like this, they'd both been injured- Ricardo after falling off of that ladder onto a table, and Del Rio still recovering from surgery- and both had spent that New Years sleeping off pain killers, miserable and annoyed whenever they were awake. Despite the fact that he's sore again, he much prefers this year's beginning so far.

Especially when Alberto reaches over and hands him one of the flutes, waiting until he's blinked away his surprise enough to get a firm grip on the glass. "What should we toast to, mi amigo?"

Ricardo thinks for a moment, staring at the bubbles floating up to the top of the champagne. "New opportunities?"

Alberto purses his lips before nodding. "And friendship." At Ricardo's responding nod, they click their glasses together and slowly sip from the expensive drink.