Wade Barrett, not being put in a match that night, finds himself inexplicably spending his evening in 3MB's locker room. His best guess is the trio is just so obnoxious that they'd been pushed off into their own personal little room so as not to disturb the others. Or they had just taken the first empty room they'd found. Either, and, or. Either way, he's relieved for the solitude as they're out in the ring dealing with Sheamus again. Sneering when JBL says that it's not a fair match being a handicap match, 3MB needs more men against Sheamus, Wade doesn't even need to blink as the match ends almost as quickly as it begins, Drew and Jinder only watching from the outside as Sheamus Brogue Kicks Heath and pins him.
Waving the whole situation off, Drew lifts a limp Heath up and drags him over his shoulder before carrying him away from ringside, Jinder tagging along behind them. They don't seem to take their time in returning to the locker room, Drew only pausing momentarily upon seeing Wade still sitting there where they'd left him. "Oh, you're still here?" Voice dripping equally in derision and his heavy Scottish accent, Barrett simply smirks and ignores the comment as his former Corre mate is lowered to the couch next to him, his bright hair blocking his face from view.
Jinder's indecipherable mumbles finally grow louder as he steps closer to the three. "He's still unconscious? Maybe we should've taken him to the trainer, Drew."
Drew looks thoughtful, probably reconsidering his decision to avoid mocking stares and comments by dragging their band leader in here first off, but Barrett just rolls his eyes and leans over, carelessly brushing the orange strands out of his eyes, unsurprised to find that, yeah, he's still unresponsive. But it had happened many times since he'd met the man, he figures it'll happen many more. There's a foolproof way of figuring out if he needs help or not, tried and tested during both the Nexus and the Corre. Ignoring McIntyre and Mahal's wide eyed stares, he slaps Heath halfheartedly on the side of the face. "Slater!"
Brown eyes immediately shooting open, the West Virginian sits up so fast he almost falls off of the couch, then slumps back with a groan as he grips at his throbbing face. "Ow," he whines. "Why'd you go'n'do that?!" he demands, glaring over at Wade.
Smirking and ignoring the question, he raises an eyebrow at Jinder. "Might want to get him some water," he deadpans, amusement growing as the Punjab comes back to himself and nods, out of the room in a moment. "Just so you know, that little trick right there only works for me," he continues, turning his gaze to McIntyre, who merely rolls his eyes as he settles in on a chair.
When Jinder returns with the water, Heath downs it quickly and sighs, the cool liquid reviving him some more. "What the hell happened out there?" he demands of his bandmates. As Drew and Jinder talk in circles trying to explain what had happened in the match against Sheamus, trying to make it sound less bad than it really was, Heath reads easily between the lines, his face turning almost as colorful as his hair.
Wade sits back and just smirks, listening and watching as the three men bicker over that failed attempt of a match. He might not have had much to do here but the evening had ended up entertaining after all.