Talia laced up her boots, tugging down on her ring shorts.
Mark had insisted she get some proper ring attire before he ever let her near his. He'd refused the standard workout clothes and running shoes, saying that, if she wanted to wrestle, then she was going to look like a wrestler.
She made her way down to the basement, finding Mark in the ring set up to one side.
"Hey, you get leather pants and I have to wear this." She motioned down at herself.
He grinned down at her. "I'm the Undertaker," he said as way of explanation, helping her into the ring, "and now you're in my yard."
She motioned him toward her. "Alright. Come get some, American wise ass."
He looked shocked for a moment, then grinned and began circling the ring.
They locked up, both trying to get the upper hand on the other. He gave a hard shove, sending her back a few steps.
She sent him a mock glare, eyeing him for possible openings. He looked smug and she took her chance, getting him in an arm-wringer wrist lock.
He caught her by surprise, going down to the mat and flipping himself over, quickly twisting her arm up in a hammer lock.
"You're good, little girl, but not that good," he growled, ruffling the wisps of hair over her ear.
Talia pulled a reversal, wrapping her arms around his neck for a sleeper hold.
"Brat," he whispered as she held on, piggyback, cocking his head a little more to restrict the blood flow to the brain.
He hit his knees and she tightened her hold. He slumped then used a burst of energy to flip her over his head, knocking the wind out of her as her back hit the mat.
"No fair, you're bigger than me."
"So are half the men in wrestling," he said, pulling her up. "You wanna wrestle in the men's division, or not?"
She nodded, then rushed at him with spear, sending him into the turnbuckle. "Better," he said, a little winded.
She straightened, going for a snap-suplex when he wrapped the long fingers of his right hand around her throat.
He lifted her off the ground, slamming her to the mat and straddling her stomach.
"What's goin' on here?"
She turned her head toward the voice, trying to get the breath back that he'd knocked out of her. "Hey, Glenn."
He gave a nod in her direction, then looked up at Mark. "I knocked," he said, holding up the spare key that he'd taken from the flower pot by the front steps.
Mark removed himself from her waist, getting out of the ring to talk to Glenn.
Talia sat up, rolling out of the ring to grab a water bottle.
"I just stopped by to check on our new talent."
Her head shot in their direction. "Not now, Glenn."
Glenn stepped closer, but Mark put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Don't push her. If she says she's not ready, then she isn't."
The younger man nodded. "You'll never learn to trust me, will you?" he tossed at Talia.
She took a sip of water, then pursed her lips. "I don't trust anyone," she said, regretting her words a little when a flash of hurt crossed over Mark's eyes.
Trust was earned and Mark was well on his way. So far.
"Forty-five… forty-six… forty-seven…" Mark couldn't help but grimace when she did as she pulled her body up on the chin-up bar. "Forty-eight… forty-nine… fifty."
She let herself drop to the ground, stretching her arms.
He was impressed with this girl. She worked harder than he'd ever thought to when he'd started wrestling.
When he'd met her dad, who worked as a personal body guard for Vince McMahon, she was young, painfully shy, and at times, bi-polar. She had been a cute kid, not thin but adorable.
The difference between Talia Delaney now and then was like night and day.
He took her in six moths ago after her parents kicked her out. She was homeless, penniless, in the middle the Kentucky woods, and he'd brought her home after having a few choice words with her so-called parents.
After he got her settled in, he found that she'd been training to go to Ohio Valley Wrestling, in the hopes of getting into WWE.
She snatched his water from him, grinning cheekily before taking a drink.
"Hey," he protested playfully, "get your own."
She took another drink. "Take your own advice," she said with a smirk. "I got mine." She held up the bottle before heading upstairs to shower.
Mark stayed behind to put up the free weights and turn off all the lights before going upstairs to his room and taking a shower himself.
He tugged on jeans, zipping but not bothering to button them, and went back downstairs, his hair dripping. He went into the den, flinging open the doors on the entertainment center and sorting through the VHS tapes there.
He pulled out one labeled "RAW 1998" and slipped it in the VCR to rewind, then went into the kitchen. He made some popcorn and poured it in a big bowl.
"Talia! You done up there?!"
She would come limping down the stairs in a minute and he'd have to help her loosen up some muscle or relieve a cramp.
"Chill, big boy!" she shouted from the vicinity of the top of the stairs.
Grinning, he took the bowl in the den and set it on the coffee table. She had the uncanny ability to make him laugh, even in the face of a nasty divorce.
