Kit showered and prepared for the day, drying her hair and brushing it smooth. She applied some makeup, circling her green eyes with dark kohl liner, and applying a bit of tinted lip balm. She was dressed nicely, but still casual enough to fit in with many of the wrestlers. She wore dark denim jeans, and threw a white blazer on over red and black layered tank tops. She contemplated heels, but being so tall already, she decided on simple black flats before accessorizing with silver earrings and a long silver necklace.

She showed up at Stephen's door ten minutes later, her tea in one hand, and his lunchtime protein shake in the other. The rest of his meal would be arriving via room service in a few minutes. He answered the door in a white button down and jeans, his hair lying flat on his head, still wet from his shower. "Thank the stars you're here. …you can't sew, can you?" Kit blinked as he took his shake from her hand, taking a moment before nodding. "I have thread an' a needle, can you put my button back on my vest? I just brought the one."

Kit went right into work mode, instructing him to finish getting ready and have his lunch before sitting down to fix the button. Stephen did a double take as she flipped a knife out of her purse, using the blade to remove the torn strings and cut new thread. She had the button finished before he finished his meal, and put the mending items away. "You always carry a weapon on you?"

"I've spent half of my life living in a city… it's a necessary precaution."

Stephen nodded and they both finished getting ready in silence. They headed down to the car and he opened her door for her before sliding into the driver's seat. Kit had preprogrammed the GPS to the arena, but he had been to Boston so many times, he knew where to go.

Four interviews, two hours of autographs, and a very sore hand later, Stephen and Kit were in his dressing room waiting for the show to start. He had already begun his warm-up routine, and Kit knew by now not to interrupt him. She sat on the floor, her back against the wall as she read through the comic Phil had brought her earlier. She had texted him to let him know she needed to skip their lunch, and he made her promise dinner with him after the show instead. Stephen had given her an odd look, but she was looking forward to having a friend of her own to spend time with.

"Alright, time for me to go, lass."

Kit looked up with a smile. "Good luck out there. Stay safe."

"I don't need more luck, I'm already Irish," he laughed, winking at her before leaving the room.

Kit set her comic down, knowing she won't be able to focus on it while Stephen was in the ring. She lay down along the wall, her head on her purse like it was a pillow, and waited. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, willing herself to remain calm. She had been watching Stephen wrestle as Sheamus since he debuted years ago, but it was different now that she knew him. Before she knew she was sleeping, the door opened and slammed shut, scaring her awake.

'I swear ta' God," Stephen yelled, his anger making his Irish brogue thicker, "if Show gets ta' hit me one more time with my belt, m'gonna-" he turned and saw the look on Kit's face, immediately stopping his tirade. "…Kit? Kit, M'sorry, I didn' realize you were here…"

She shook her head, clearing the sleepiness from her brain. "It's alright, Stephen. …I startle easily, remember?" She forced a small laugh, "I suppose that's what I get for falling asleep on your floor."

Stephen crossed over and helped her stand, mumbling another apology. "Can I make it up to you? …take you to dinner and apologize?"

Kit hesitated, "I'm having dinner with Phil." He looked so crestfallen that she couldn't resist extending an invitation. "Would you like to come with us?"

"I don't want to interrupt your date."

She blinked once and then erupted into earnest laughter. "Date? Date? You thought- …oh no, we're just friends. I mean, I like him, and we have a lot in common, but- …no. Just no. You're coming to dinner, so go shower and get dressed."