True to his word Seth had bought the first round of Jack Daniels and Budweiser when they had managed to find a bar that wasn't jam packed with people. Having not eaten for hours and being physically exhausted, when they reached the third round of bourbon and beer the alcohol hit her hard, bringing her guard tumbling down with it.
"You are a lightweight," Seth grinned.
"Of course I'm a damn lightweight, I don't drink most of the time," She replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Also you guys are like... twice my size. Three times in Roman's case. Don't you know how to science?"
"I do," He answered, finding he enjoyed drunk Carolyn. She was rather amusing. "So, what's the story between you and our illustrious COO?"
"He's an asshole. Charming as hell when he wants to be, but a manipulative, lying, cunning, fucking asshole all the same." Picking up the bottle in front of her she drained its last remnants before signalling the waitress for another round for all of them. Throwing the shot back without hesitation she decided to elaborate, "Not many people know it, but he and Steph were going through problems back in '05, then there I was, just a little rookie who still couldn't quite believe she had made it into the WWE."
"Are you saying he tried to..." Roman trailed off, letting the unspoken suggestion speak for itself.
"Fuck me?" Carolyn supplied bluntly, then waved it off, "No. It was Dave that wanted to do that. With both of them being in Evolution at the time it wasn't hard for Hunter to figure it out, though it wasn't exactly as if Dave was being subtle about it. I wasn't interested at the prospect either; he may have been easy on the eyes, but the man would fuck just about anything pretty with a pair of tits and a pulse, and I wasn't about to play STD Russian Roullette." Taking a mouthful of beer she idly fingered a side of the paper napkin the condensation soaked into, "Anyway, Helmsley was more concerned with keeping his belt, so when Batista won the Rumble that year Helmsley wanted him to go to Smackdown and take the WWE title from JBL. At the time upper management didn't quite know what to do with me, so I was bounced between Raw and Smackdown for a little while before Hunter began to pay attention to Dave's, shall we say, affection for me.
"To be honest I was feeling a little lost at the time, my dad had died about six months before I got called up from OVW. Then all of a sudden the Hunter Hearst Helmsley comes sweeping in all charming and sweet and mentor like with no apparent ulterior motives. At least for the first couple of weeks anyway. That's when he started dropping hints about dear Davey Boy. Said that while he respected him, he didn't think he was quite ready at the World title yet and instead of him wasting his shot chasing it I could convince him to go after Layfield."
"So did you?"
"Not gonna lie, at first I did because Hunter has this way with words that just made you feel that you were doing the right thing. Didn't help that I was only twenty three at the time, perfect age for the old addage 'young and stupid'. It wasn't until Randy Orton of all people pulled me aside and showed me just what the hell was going on. Such a shame he turned into an asshole as well... Roman, I forbid you to let this business turn you into an asshole!" She suddenly demanded, going completely off topic.
"What about me?" Seth asked, clearly entertained with her frank inebriation, "And Dean?"
"You're not allowed to be an asshole either," Carolyn declared, pointing in his direction with the neck of the half empty bottle, "Though it might be a little late for Ambrose."
"Oh come on, Princess, that's not fair."
"Do I even sound like a fucking princess to you?"
"Evidently not," He replied casually, "If I had to hazard a guess, an actual princess would weigh less too. Next time Roman is carrying you up the ramp."
Silence rushed in as soon as he said it, Rollins and Reigns decidedly thinking Ambrose had just dug his own grave. Wasn't it some unwritten law to never take a shot at a woman's weight, joke or not? The pair could only watch as Carolyn stared at Dean with a completely unreadable expression before reacting in a most surprising way.
She laughed.
"See, he is an asshole," Carolyn giggled, "You're probably right though, especially if I drink any more of these."
"So what happened between you, Helmsley and Batista?" Roman nudged, trying to steer the topic back on track and away from something potentially volatile. Just because she let something like that slide once didn't necessarily mean it would happen a second time.
"Where was I?"
"Orton."
"Oh yeah. He was still hot about the way Hunter had booted him out of Evolution after he won the title back in... was it November?" She shrugged, not really caring about the minute detail, "Like I said, he helped me open my eyes as to just exactly what game Hunter was playing and suggested what I could do to upset his little apple cart. I played along for a while, got to know Dave about as much as I cared to before proposing he make a run for Helmsley's title at Wrestlemania. When he actually beat him for it and he'd figured out what I'd done, Hunter was livid."
"So if you got the better of him, why do you have such a problem with Helmsley now?"
"I don't take to kindly to people trying to manipulate and use me. Also he's tried to screw with my career a couple of times once he and that ball breaker wife of his smoothed things over." With the story time over and her drink finished she decided she had had enough for the night, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to crash. I'll see you in the morning, gentlemen... and Ambrose." Sliding out of the chair she managed to stay unsteadily on her feet but didn't stay that way for long. Before she could get up close and personal with the floor Dean had stood up and grabbed her, his arm slipping around her waist as she leaned into him for support.
"Guess this is my queue as well."
"Don't be silly, I can make it."
"You can barely stand up straight," He countered, "Left unsupervised you'd probably wander straight into traffic."
With a round of goodbyes they parted ways from Rollins and Reigns then stepped out into the Chicago night. While the bar was within walking distance of the hotel, the journey took twice as long to get there as Carolyn would periodically try to roam towards something that would catch her eye, only to have Dean gently steer her back on track. He was a little unsure how to handle the abrupt one eighty from her sober personality, it was almost as if someone had replaced the stand-offish, caustic Carolyn with a fun and friendly doppelganger. Perhaps a little too friendly. Her arm had slipped under his jacket and around his waist, fingers absently stroking his side through his shirt while she cuddled up against him.
Her mind was pleasantly fuzzy and Dean was just as pleasantly warm, if they weren't moving she would have quite happily fallen asleep on the spot. Even though the show had been rough it had been surprisingly enjoyable to sit down with the three of them away from the arena or whatever else they had to do as part of their jobs. When not surrounded by half a locker room that wanted to bury them, The Shield's intensity was replaced by a laid back camaraderie. "We should have done this whole 'lets get drunk' thing a lot sooner, Ambrose."
"Hate to break it to you, but you're the only one who's drunk."
"Well, yeah. That was... eight drinks in the space of an hour?"
"Two hours."
She simply made some dismissive noise in reply. "Are we there yet?"
He tried not to laugh at just how childish that sounded, "Almost."
When they finally had it made back it took Dean a little effort to open the door and not let Carolyn wander off with the bright idea of knocking on Dolph's door with drunken apologies about punching him in the face during the main event. Aside from the fact that he just didn't want her anywhere near Ziggler to begin with, he had quite enjoyed watching her sock the resident Show Off and didn't think she had anything to apologise for. Closing the door shut with his foot he flicked on the lights and they shuffled into the room and reached the foot of the closest bed. As she began to slip from his grasp and onto the covers he found himself pulled down with her when she grabbed the edges of his jacket, her hands slipping over his shoulders and around his neck as she kissed him. Instinctively he responded, the feel of her nails grazing along his skin when she got under his shirt simply encouraging him further. With no small amount of effort he stopped before things could escalate; he wanted her, yes, but not when she was drunk and all but falling asleep.
"Careful, Princess. You don't want to start something you can't finish."
"Is that so, Mister Ambrose?"
The question was so coy and inviting that he almost caved in right there. Marshalling what was left of his resolve he disentangled himself from her touch much to her intoxicated disappointment and headed for the bathroom; he really needed a cold shower right now...
Who was the idiot who let me drink last night?
When Carolyn woke up the next morning not feeling her best; between the aches and pains from the previous night's battle against Natalya and Tamina followed by the bright idea to go drinking on an empty stomach all she wanted to do was crawl under the nearest rock and not come out for the next month. But despite feeling completely and utterly wretched, her body clock had woken her up around her usual early morning hour and was unable to go back to sleep. She surmised it was some kind of punishment for her own stupidity.
After going through the ritual of sneaking around in an attempt not to wake up Ambrose she headed downstairs. While it may not have quite been cold enough for it she sat in the darkest corner of the restaurant enveloped in the protection of a grey and red hooded sweater and gave a breakfast order to the waiter. As she waited she tried to piece together the evening after the show but gave up as it dissolved into a jumbled, fuzzy mess. She knew she could get a little uninhibited while under the influence, it was part of the reason she barely went near alcohol to begin with, so all she could do was hope she didn't do anything embarrassing. A few minutes later someone sat down in the opposing chair uninvited.
"You look..."
"Like hell?" She offered and looked across the table at Dolph, "If it's any consolation I'm not feeling much better either." She paused as her coffee arrived, then loaded it up with excessive amounts of cream and sugar. "I'm sorry about the whole fist to the jaw thing last night."
Reflexively he massaged the left side of his face where the blow had connected, "I have to say you sure as hell have a mean right hook." He seemed to hesitate for a minute as if trying to pick his words carefully, making her wonder just what was on his mind. "Listen, Carol... I need to know what's going on between you and The Shield."
"What do you mean?"
"First name basis with Reigns, then jumping in to interfere last night to try and bail out Rollins..." He was finding this a lot more awkward than he had thought it was going to be, "Then there's certain... rumours. About you and Ambrose. You're not... you know... with him? Are you?"
The implication of what he was trying to get at had Carolyn choking on a mouthful of hot coffee, which wasn't at all pleasant. "What? No! Why would you even think that?"
"Have you actually watched the programming lately?" He replied, finding himself with the unpleasant discovery of not knowing if he trusted her word or not any more. There was a time when he wouldn't have even thought of questioning it, but they had barely spoken to each other in weeks and he didn't know what to believe right now. "The times when you guys interact makes it look rather... friendly."
"Let me straighten all this out right now. I'm on a first name basis with Roman because he's the only person who's hasn't treated me like a fucking pariah since this whole thing started, which is more than I can say for the rest of the locker room. Second, of course I jumped in to try and help Seth. It was a match and he was on my team, I would've done the exact same thing for you. Third... Really? Never mind what the damn broadcast looks like but... Really? Do you honestly think I'd start fucking Ambrose after only three weeks? That's like me thinking you're actually dumb enough to go back to that psychotic ex girlfriend of yours." She repetitively clenched her fists while reigning in her rising temper. "It's been almost eight years, Dolph. I'd expect a little more trust than that."
Abruptly she stood up just as breakfast arrived and stalked out, leaving Ziggler to sit there and process what the hell had just happened.