For the first time in what seemed like ages, Stephanie McMahon was able to walk through her house to the beautiful sound of silence without worrying about stumbling across a semi-dead acquaintance named Eric Bischoff. It was crazy how things changed. She had almost forgotten that it was possible to have a normal afternoon. The sun was shining through the window, silly alien creatures were singing to her daughter through the television, and she was standing in the main hallway staring at herself in a full-length mirror. One by one she picked apart her reflection.

Her hair was too flat. Her knees looked too fat for her skirt. She was too fat.

She was going crazy.

"You look exactly the same," Eric said in a deadpan voice, slowly creeping up behind her as he struggled to button his shirt correctly.

Stephanie cleared her throat, pulling her mind away from her self-evaluation as she turned to face the man behind her. He had improved in a matter of hours. Although she questioned his sobriety, it wouldn't be too outlandish to suggest that Eric was beginning to show promise as an attractive man. With his facial hair tamed and his silver locks soft and presentable there would be nothing left to allow the assumption that he was indeed a crazy homeless man. Well, almost nothing.

"Thanks for reassuring me. Now, if you don't mind, let me help you with your shirt," Stephanie said as she pushed his hands away from his buttons. Taking a calming deep breath, she slowly buttoned his shirt from bottom to top. Once she had finished she took a step away from him and circled him like a hawk would a wounded puppy. And like the wounded puppy he was, Eric frowned as he turned with her, suspicious of her movement.

"I'm not sure you're ready for what we're about to walk into. We're walking into high society and the history of professional wrestling all at one time. It's going to be Dynasty and Wrestlemania in one," Stephanie said with her hands on her hips, staring him down.

"I know, Stephie," he replied bitterly. "I'm not sure how good your memory is but we worked with all of those people together. In fact, we worked with them not too long ago. They're assholes. You don't need to remind me."

Shaking her curly blonde tresses, Stephanie stalked away from her roommate and into the living room where she found Aurora still amused by the brightly colored fools on the screen. Picking up her daughter she gently combed through her hair with her fingertips and looked back at the man Aurora fondly knew as Uncle Eric.

"I'm not trying to remind you, Eric. I'm simply trying refresh your memory. All of those meetings that ended with people throwing fits--" Stephanie began to explain before she was cut off by the smirking man.

"All of those people were you, Princess," Eric reminded her.

"Anyway. You're an asshole. No one likes you, Eric. I was trying to be subtle about it but you know what, fuck that. If you step out of line or step over toward the bar more than once I will pull you aside and rip your throat out. Settle your differences however you want but do them when you're not anywhere near me or my kid," Stephanie said as she stared him straight in the eye to get her seriousness across.

There was no humor or lightheartedness in Stephanie's eyes at all. In fact, her former skin seemed to be emerging as a fire burned in her eyes. She was serious..more serious than she had been since Eric stumbled back into her life. They both noticed it but Stephanie chose to ignore it. "Show no weakness," her father's voice shouted in her head just as Eric's conscience was shouting in his head, "Let it go." He couldn't.

"Why do I have to go to this thing anyway? I mean, if you really needed someone to watch Rory then you would leave her hear or call a sitter," he said, thinking out loud.

As the mother busied herself with preparing a bag for her daughter, Eric waited for an answer. When he realized he wasn't getting one he continued, his voice softening as best as it could.

"Does it have something to do with Rory? I mean, it doesn't matter if it does..or if it doesn't. I'm just wondering. I know that you and Hunter don't have the best relationship, although apparently he has a close one with your family..Am I getting somewhere?"

Angrily, Stephanie zipped up the bag and flung it over her shoulder quick enough to startle the baby who could only blink in surprise. With as much intensity as she had garnered from their conversation, she glared at him.

"I'd rather you not talk about my personal life. I just want you to do what I ask of you without any witty remarks or insults under your breath. I'm letting you stay in my house. No one else would do that for you so I think you might want to be more grateful than you're acting. Now grab your jacket and lock the door."

With the door slamming shut behind her, Eric was left to wade in the waters of Hurricane Stephanie. The woman knew how to stir up a disaster but it didn't surprise him. She was falling apart. Her stitching was ready to burst for all to see. It was upsetting for Eric with their history and what he knew of her family, but there was a joy at the bottom of his stomach that dancing.

Stephanie McMahon needed him. She was using him and he wasn't going to let that thought fade.