WF was seated at table near the back of the bar, going over a piece of paper with Mike and Afa. They agreed to be her helping hands should she need it for Irvine. So far she had a rough outline about what to do. The fact that he seemed to be as carefree outside of the ring as he was serious inside it was what put the idea in her head.

"I don't think that this is going to work." Mike said as he pulled a frown. "Irvine might be off the wall, but I doubt that he'll fall for this."

"Have some faith in me Mike. You're talking to the one that had John Layfield almost in tears. I'm pretty sure that I can pull this off." WF said with a roll of her eyes.

"I still don't think that it's going to work." He mumbled.

Afa grinned and gave WF the thumbs up as she got up from the table. She was wearing the grey suit that she had worn with Layfield, but she had had a maple leaf embroidered on the lapel. Her quarry crossed the lobby and with a smile she followed him. He was heading towards the gym and she hurried to catch up with him. Just before his hand touched the knob of the door she cleared her throat. He turned around and she fought to breathe when he smiled at her.

"Can I help you miss?"

"Sir, My name is Alicia Penwortham. And I'm from the CBW."

"What does the CBW want with me?" He asked, his eyes going wide.

"May we speak privately?"

"Oh, of course." He said hurriedly as he turned and headed towards the elevator. "But, uh. I'm sharing a room with someone. And I'd rather not have my room mate knowing about it."

"I understand. I have a private room if you'd prefer that."

"Yes, yes."

WF stepped onto the elevator, fighting hard to keep the smile from her lips. Chris was standing in the elevator next to her, shifting from foot to foot nervously. Soon the door dinged open and Chris was the first off, WF following at a more sedate pace. He let her take the lead but it was obvious that he was impatient to find out what was going on. Once they were comfortable in the room Chris moved to the edge of his seat and stared at her; concern written clearly on his face.

"Now Ms. Penwortham, what does the CBW want? I've done nothing wrong to warrant them sending someone."

"Mr. Irvine. It has come to the attention of the CBW that you're not as…..sparkly as a Canadian Wrestler should be."

"What?" Chris yelped. "I have the most sparkles of all the Canadian Wrestlers. Copeland doesn't sparkle, Reso wears foil, Maryse; well she's a Diva so there's some sparkle there. And the Hart Trio? There's not a sparkle among them."

"Mr. Irvine, the Hart Trio are upholding the honor of their name. They are showing the world that the Pink and Black attack still have it. As for Copeland, he's being talked to by another one of our representatives. Even foil sparkles Sir, so Reso is fine. And Copeland has been known from time to time to foil up his gear as well. But you Sir….are an embarrassment to the CBW. You're positively dim as you move around the ring. In fact Mr. Mizanin sparkles more than you."

"How much more sparkly can I be. I have them across my ass, on my boots and sometimes on my junk. I can not fit anymore sparkles on the wrestling gear that I wear now." He argued.

"Then I suggest that you return to your tights. More room to fit sparkles." WF said offhandedly. "The CBW suggests that you figure out something quickly or we're going to purge you from our data banks. You won't be able to claim that you're from Canada again."

"WHAT?!?!?!?" He screeched. "The CBW doesn't have the authority to do that."

"Sir, the Canadian Bureau of Wrestlers has the authority to do anything that might bring shame upon the name of Canadian Wrestlers. Either you shape up, or you ship out." WF's voice was cold and she watched as the color drained from Chris's face.

"So you're telling me, that unless I sparkle more, then I can't claim Canada?"

"Basically."

"Please don't do that to me!" He pleaded as he got to his knees and clasped WF's waist. "I'll do anything."

"Then I suggest you go and have the seamstress make you a different ring outfit to wear tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am." He got back to his feet and darted towards the door; leaving WF chuckling behind him. He sped out the door but then raced back in before it could even close a fraction of an inch. He grabbed her hands and stared into her eyes. "What color do you think I should wear? Blue or Purple?"

"Blue."

"Thank you Ms. Penwortham." He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before dashing from the room again.

WF stood stock still for moment, her fingers shaking as she pressed the tips to her lips. Her mind ceased to work when it processed what had happened.

"Chris Irvine just kissed me." She whispered as her knees gave out and she sank down to the floor.


"Alright now. WF is done with her target. Switch over to TVL." DK commanded as she rewound the tape and made two copies; knowing that WF would like to have a copy to keep.

"So why did you pick CC duty?" Glen asked offhandedly as he did what he was told.

"I've been.........distracted lately. My mind's not in the game, and if my mind isn't in the game then I don't preform well. And if I don't preform well then I get aggravated, and when I get aggravated NO ONE wants to be around me. So I'm taking a preemptive strike to keep me from biting the heads off the other girls."

"What's got you distracted?" He prodded as he sat down in a rolling chair and glided over to her.

"I guess it's more of a Who than a What?" She admitted, turning to face the monitor so he wouldn't see her blush.

"And that person is who?"

She was saved from answering by WF breezing into the room with a large grin on her face. Without a word DK handed over the other copy of her 'torture' of Chris Irvine. WF smiled again and left the room, seemingly floating on air.

"So where were we?" Glen asked.

"We are about to watch Cena and Orton get their just deserts." Her voice was back to business and Glen sighed as he moved so that he could watch the monitors.