Second day of this WrestleMania week Ambregal story - second part of it. Hope you enjoy.

It had been one of those nights for William Regal. After RAW last night there had been a little backstage party that went on into the city and a small private club. Usually William wasn't much for something like that. But it was WrestleMania week, and there were so many guys he hadn't seen for a long time...

There had been a lot of fabulous excuses for him to actually staying until around two in the morning when he finally decided to make his way back to the hotel. Unsurprisingly he wasn't able to sleep. Besides the usual insomnia that hit him regularly, just too much had been going on in his mind – the last few hours, a few fragments of words he had shared with old friends and coll, some promises he made – a few of them he already couldn't remember anymore.

And from time to time the impression of Dean Ambrose crossed his mind as well. His first match as a referee in WWE; his strange behaviour backstage; William's own joy of meeting up with the boy again.

William had made it into his hotel room with high expectations for a few hours of good sleep after this quite exhausting evening and night. But after one hour of restless waiting, he got up from his bed again. He took his notebook from his bag and wrapped himself back up in the soft and warm duvet of his hotel bed.

Initially he just wanted to kill some time, watching a few old wrestling matches on YouTube that would finally lead to some sleep. But then he unintentionally stumbled upon one of Dean's matches as Jon Moxley back in the day.

Already the setting had been great: it looked like a school gym with less than fifty people gathering loosely around the ring. And knowing where both competitors were now, this set-up seemed even more surreal: Jon Moxley and Drake Younger – now referee Drake Wuertz in NXT – in a Dog Collar match for the IPW World Heavyweight Championship that belonged to Drake Younger before the match started.

Almost thirty minutes of blood, sweat and thumbtacks. It was quite a treat that William watched for three times, and then the finish for another couple times – just to see Dean winning a match and a title. It felt like an eternity now since Dean had won his last PPV in WWE. As far as William could remember that last time The Shield still existed.

After the umpteenth time of watching the finish of the match, William froze the picture right when Jon was looking into the camera, trash talking on Drake Younger,

"You can all suck my cock."

One thumbtack still attached to his right knee. His eyes were framed with a make-up of already dried blood, the rest of his face soaked in sweat. It was a picture of beauty.

– – – –

Three hours later William made his way to the lobby of the hotel. The overly nice receptionist – this big smile all over her face while she was talking – made it clear that he was just late for breakfast. William couldn't help but shot her an equally big smile – meant sarcastically, of course, but Americans don't get that anyway – than he made his way outside of this hotel that must belong to a German for sure.

But there was sun outside. And it was warm already. So William was just feeling a little better again when someone pushed him on his shoulder.

"Damn, you look terrible," this someone said and William turned to him in anger. But his mood lightened when he recognized the certain someone.

"Nigel! What are you doing here?" William asked his fellow countryman Nigel McGuinness.

"Well, it's WrestleMania week. Did you hear about that?" Nigel asked back laughing.

"Barely," was William's response but he added, "Do you have a bit of time for an old lad like me? I need to get some breakfast in the wild because this very hotel here refused to serve me the one I've already paid for."

Nigel shot the hotel a disgusted look. Then turned his attention back to William.

"Yeah, they're notorious for closing breakfast service a couple minutes early. But you know what? Their breakfast is disgusting anyway. And I know a fabulous pub with great breakfast. They even make you a huge gluten-free one if you ask politely," he said and was visibly enjoying himself when he saw the smile in the corners of William's eyes.

"Then it was probably the best that could have happened to me," William said, paused for a second while he looked straight at Nigel, but then laid one hand of the other man's shoulder, "It's really great to meet you here in this jungle, Nigel."

– – – –

Nigel didn't promise too much. The breakfast had been marvelous. William had been able to drive all the way from Los Angeles to San Francisco without stopping for food. But he certainly had to stop twice for other reasons. And one of them had been his numb body.

Driving alone for around five hours wasn't much of a pleasure. And for his body is was actually torture. For some reason William wasn't able to decide which music he should listen to during his road trip. First he thought a little jazz & blues combination could be fitting for a nice and pleasant trip down south.

But it had been a touch too nice and pleasant and consequences could have been worse if William hadn't been able to evade the huge hind that all of a sudden had emerged in front of his eyes. William wasn't even able to tell if he had suffered from microsleep or if the hind had been emerged by miracle. He still told himself that the latter could have been possible when he long arrived in his hotel in San Francisco. Because after the hind case he had decided to go for some good old English rock music, and that had been a far better decision.

Exhausted after the long trip, William had decided to go for an early dinner after a quick shower, and afterwards trying for an early sleep again. Maybe it worked this time.

But it just didn't happen. Once again he was lying in bed for over an hour and couldn't sleep. It was long dark outside and William now tried to follow the stars on their path from one side of the window to the other. And while he was doing that, all of a sudden his cell phone made itself felt. It vibrated on the bedside table and shot light onto the ceiling.

Glad of the distraction from trying to sleep, William reached for his phone and found a message.

Did you get my pic? – it said.

William read the message again. Then he checked the number. But it didn't come up with a name. So he didn't knew the sender, he thought. What picture?

Now William set up and turned on the lamp on the wall behind him. And checked his phone again. There was indeed another message he had received a few hours ago. He must have missed it while he was checking in the hotel.

Now he opened the other message and it was indeed a picture. William looked at a peaceful but quite deserted landscape, and it had been coming with the message – Greetings from the waste land.

William knew that Dean would use his few days of rest before the narrow schedule of the four days of WrestleMania weekend for a few hiking tours to his beloved Nevada desert. And this picture somehow looked like this. But he still didn't knew this phone number.

So, William texted back – Got the picture. Is that you, Dean?

He didn't have to wait long for the answer – Yeah. Had to get another phone number. Save it for later.

William smiled at this answer because he could imagine that Dean had just lost his phone somewhere – like the other two phones before and quite an amount of iPads and iPods. There must be a lot of people running around with listening to Hank Williams by now in this country.

I'll save it. Will you send me other pictures later? – William wrote back, already enjoying the little chit-chat.

Do you want me to send some? – the answer said. William initially had thought that Dean had intended that with his previous message. But now he was sure that he had just thought about the number. Nevertheless this last reply was just too good of a fit occasion to let it slip.

You can send me whatever you like, my dear boy – William wrote and now waited impatiently for an answer.

So, when his phone vibrated again, William had already opened the message before it stopped. He read the message first – Good night from this dear boy.

Then he opened the picture and looked into the eyes of a desert iguana. All of a sudden William missed his own pets. But he liked the picture. This iguana was a true beauty, and he could only imagine that Dean might have thought about him when he took the picture.

Another message came in and William opened it – Met this guy today when I was about to head home. Thought it looked like you ;)

I can't see any similarities. It certainly doesn't have my luscious hair. – William wrote back, then opened the picture from the iguana again just to look at it.

No-one has got your luscious hair. – was Dean's straight answer, and William thought that this wasn't a typical reply the boy would give. It actually didn't sound like he was making fun of him. It sounded like he actually meant it.

So, William just replied – Thank you.

No word about my luscious hair? – was Dean's next message and it sounded more like him this time.

It is luscious when it's not wet – William replied smiling while typing in the letters.

It's not meant to be luscious when it's wet – Dean answered quickly like he had already typed it even before he got William's message.

It certainly would give the wrong impression. I've got to sleep now, Dean. Thank you for the distraction from my insomnia. Sleep well. – William now texted back because he really felt sleep coming now. What a wonderful feeling.

He then just waited for Dean's – Thank ya. You, too. – and finally turned off the lights to met dreamland with a smile around his lips.

That's it for this day. Leave me feedback if you liked it; leave me feedback if you didn't like it. I appreciate anything you give me back for writing this. Cheers.