Despite being booked on NXT as a tag team wrestler, Ricardo is still contracted to do interviews and commentary on regular WWE programming, so he's pacing around backstage, waiting and watching for an opportunity to film something for the website when Alberto storms backstage just a few feet behind him, yelling out in angry Spanish. Ricardo freezes and turns to look at him, the two of them unable to talk properly because of all of the people wandering around the hallway. Alberto glares at him before nodding towards a room to the side, Ricardo obediently walking that way.
A few moments after the door slips shut behind Ricardo, Alberto joins him and paces around, tearing at his hair. Ricardo quickly walks up to him and grips his hands, trying to stop him from hurting himself. "El Patron, what's wrong?" he asks, scared to talk any louder, despite his panic.
"I am so sick of losing, mi valiente," he grumbles. "And now, as if that failure is not bad enough, those nasty, dirty Los Matadores have taken my fiesta supplies."
Ricardo frowns, gaze flickering around as he tries to think. "You still kept that stuff, El Patron?" The last fiesta Ricardo remembers had been the one Alberto held just before Ricardo's suspension, nothing that he wants to remember all that well.
"Si, of course I did. I could win back the heavyweight title at any time and require a proper celebration, mi valiente!" Alberto snaps before he realizes how glum Ricardo looks, squeezing his shoulder as he too remembers. "Lo siento, Ricardo. I suppose I've forgotten the last time we had a fiesta together. It just annoys me because I paid the WWE perros to transport these things and they allow anyone to use them. Hmph." He strokes the former ring announcer's arm comfortingly before sighing. "I suppose it is just something I will have to figure out, how to overcome all of these losses. Get my head back on straight. I will leave you to your interviews." He sneaks in and kisses Ricardo, relieved when Ricardo responds before he pulls away. His wink is half-hearted and grim as he pulls away and leaves the room.
Ricardo watches him go, licking his lips thoughtfully as ideas run through his mind at a breakneck speed. Coming to a decision, he tightens his grip on the microphone he always keeps with him just in case he runs into someone and slips out of the room. He's had bad results in the past interviewing these idiots but it's his best option right now, so he finds them and requests an interview. As they ramble on about Cinco de Mayo, he sneaks glances here and there, trying to find any sign of Alberto's things. Of course this interview ends as they all do with El Torito goring him and sending him stumbling back into the bench, struggling to catch his breath as Fernando and Diego laugh, leaving the locker room- and him- behind.
As soon as some of the pain eases, he gets to his feet and rubs his midsection, gritting his teeth against the soreness brought on mostly by El Torito's horns. "Estúpido," he exhales, walking carefully over to the cubbies and searching them. Nothing catches his eye, just spare clothes and masks and random bull supplies. He grimaces, rubbing at his face before turning and almost tripping on a bag that was hidden under one of the benches. Hesitating, he hooks it with his foot and pulls it out, realizing he's found what he needs as soon as he opens it. "Ooh..."
Red and green decorations greet him and he grits his teeth against the reoccuring bad memories once more as he pushes them back inside and zips the bag up again, hoisting it up and gripping his microphone before heading to the door. Glancing left to right, he's relieved to find it quiet and escapes hurriedly, finding Alberto's personal locker room and slipping inside. He's not sure where Alberto is but he knows he wouldn't leave without him, so he sits and waits, staring down at the bag tucked safely against his feet.
Finally the door is pushed open and Alberto comes in, still looking somewhat grumpy. His eyes soften, however, when he spots Ricardo, and then his lips part as he notices the bag at his feet. "What did you do?" he breathes out, kneeling down next to the bench and unzipping it, quickly going through everything inside. "It's all here. How did you find it?"
"Being an interviewer has its advantages," Ricardo manages without grimacing in pain, smiling at his former employer.
"But... they have attacked you in the past for it," Alberto says, his brows furrowing. "How did you walk away unscathed tonight?" Ricardo pales a little and tries to find an explanation before Alberto sits down next to him and rests his hand on Ricardo's lower stomach, lightly prodding.
"Ay," Ricardo grunts, trying to squirm away. "Stop, El Patron, I'm fine."
"You definitely are not," Alberto hisses, putting his fingers back and pressing in until Ricardo groans, his eyes squeezed shut when Alberto peeks up at him. "Oh, mi valiente, that perro bull gored you again, si?"
"Si," Ricardo grunts, leaning forward as Alberto gentles his touch, massaging the sore muscles below his fingertips. The massage eventually starts to work, Ricardo's breathing calming down as the pain eases away. "Gracias," he sighs.
Alberto leans in and kisses him. "I'll take better care of you once we're back at the hotel, I promise. Muchas gracias for getting my things back, mi valiente. I don't know what i'd do without you."
Ricardo smiles at him, his eyes gleaming. "You'll never have to worry about that," he promises, quickly kissing Alberto. "May we leave soon?"
"Si, I'm done here," Alberto says, collecting all of their bags and ignoring Ricardo's protests. "Let's go." Hand pressed to Ricardo's back, he leads him down a quiet part of the hallway towards the exit, determined to get them back to the hotel ASAP so Ricardo can rest and recover.