Chapter 6: Weekend Stress
As many stars might find themselves spending their Friday night, Reigns and Bálor join Charlotte Flair for Chinese. A nice, calm way to kick off the weekend, and catch a break from worrying about Lesnar. Of course, Charlotte herself hasn't had any firsthand experience with what's going on with Lesnar, but she's heard some of the rumors, and she's fairly curious about it all.
She grins softly as she watches Reigns give his bicep a brief massage. Must be some leftover soreness from his shot the other day. Those are always a bit sore after the fact, especially for someone like Reigns, who's got a lot of muscle.
"How's the arm feeling?" she asks with a gentle laugh.
Reigns smiles, rotating his shoulder to get the blood moving. "Still a bit sore. Nuufaulo's been using that as a secret weapon; he's been bending it more than I can take just to throw me for a loop," he says. "Much better than being sick, I'll admit."
Charlotte twirls a long strand of his jet black locks around her finger. "Well, it's good that you're getting better," she says. "We needed you back desperately; things don't feel complete without you."
Bálor grabs a pair of chopsticks from the table, pinching them together. "You said it. Our posse's all back together now," he purrs, grinning softly. "And we're crushin' it. Always up for a challenge, always up for a fight." He looks up sharply, that smug look leaving his eyes, becoming replaced with one of pure innocence. "Crushin' that Lesnar mystery, anyways. That's a challenge itself, no fighting needed."
Charlotte nods, knitting her eyebrows. "That is true, Reigns. You came back just in time for that whole Lesnar problem," she points out. "What have you found out about it? I've thought about it, but I can't say I'm right until I know about what's going on. If anyone would know, it'd be you two."
Reigns breathes out softly. "Well, you heard about Lesnar beating the living shit out of AJ Styles. There's that," he says. "Then Ambrose and I found Lesnar in the back alley by his truck... And some random needle discarded nearby. Definitely wasn't from the clinic... It isn't like there was a flu clinic going on."
Bálor nods eagerly. "Strowman and I were caught talking about it by Heyman," he adds. "And he immediately started making these weird accusations about Strowman and I... That we use steroids. He said that Strowman looked bigger than usual, and that I shouldn't have the muscles I do with my body type."
Charlotte sighs. "It all matches up with what I saw, too," she says somberly.
Reigns raises an eyebrow. "You saw something?" he questions.
She nods, biting her lip and accidentally licking off some of the glitter from her lip gloss. "The weirdest thing," she confirms. "Will was just coming back from the gym... I was just about to go in, but I got startled by Lesnar storming out from the showers. All I could do was watch as Lesnar grabbed onto Will... And he didn't even do anything to provoke him. Lesnar grabbed his throat, and said something like 'you think you're all big, don't you? That someone like me can't hurt you?' Then he ripped at his hair and flared into his eyes and he told him... 'I can. I can kill you.' After all that he just... Shoved Will into the wall before walking off. He fell so hard that he just slumped to the floor." Charlotte breathes shakily, a haunted look coming into her eyes. "I'd never seen Will so scared. I never thought I'd be so scared of Lesnar. I mean, he's never been warm and fuzzy like Strowman, but I didn't think he'd have it in him to obliterate someone."
With a sharp whistle, Bálor averts his eyes towards the ceiling. "He doesn't; that's the thing," he says. "It's gotta be something he's done to alter the way he's thinking. Ask any of the guys: Lesnar wouldn't do that on his own accord. It's like he's not him."
As if their table is being watched, by Paul Heyman or Vince McMahon or even Lesnar himself, Charlotte briefly looks over her shoulder, then at the surrounding people in the restaurant. Seeing as the coast is clear, she leans into Bálor and Reigns. "I know it might be a bit of an extreme suggestion," she whispers. "But do either of you think it could be due to drugs?"
Enlightened, Bálor nods. "That adds everything up," he says. "Drugs alter behavior pretty bad. We just gotta figure out what sort of drug would do something like that."
Reigns, giving the menu one last scan before making his final decision on what he wants, looks up at them both. "Good point. We'll have to look into it." He lounges back in his chair. "But let's do ourselves a favor. It's the weekend; we deserve to relax a few days."
Charlotte giggles. "Hey, where are the others, by the way?" she asks. "Y'know, Styles and Strowman and Will?"
Bálor shrugs with a soft smile. "Who knows?" he replies. "They've probably got their weekend plans going on. Relaxing with a nice bottle of champagne and a Marvel movie, I'll bet. There is that big match on Sunday they've gotta prepare for, after all."