Triple H flexed his muscles and stared at himself in the mirror, flicking loose strands of hair from his eyes and striking a pose. He pouted experimentally, liking the way his stern countenance changed into something rather more coy and subtle. Maybe after this he'd try a different shirt on, the new burgundy one he'd bought at the local mall earlier. Just as he strode to the wardrobe, however, his steps were halted by a knock on the hotel room door. Sighing, he changed direction and went over, peering through the spyhole out of sheer curiosity.

Just his luck. It was Edge, and he looked rather nervous. What did the little squirt want this time?

"Hunter!" the hairy wrestler stammered as the door was suddenly wrenched open, much to his evident surprise. "Hunter, listen up. I've got some news you really won't want to miss. See, I was just out in town for a meal, hanging out with some good friends of mine,and you wouldn't guess who I saw there…"

"Hey, calm down." Triple H held up his hands, palms out, in an attempt to slow Edge's speech down. There was no love lost between the two wrestlers here; Edge wasn't exactly the best when it came to making friends, and The Game's egotistical and confrontational attitude made it difficult for him to get along with many of his colleagues. Still, if Edge had important news – and Triple H reckoned it had to be of some serious import if the hirsute man had dared to come and see him like this – then he would at least humour the excited little puppy and hear him out. "Alright, Edge. Breathe, will you? What the hell is going on?"

"Okay, okay!" Edge dragged his fingers through his unruly hair,took a moment to compose himself, and worked on regaining his breath. "The thing is… it's Batista, Triple H. Batista's up to something."

"Oh?" The Game raised an eyebrow in interest. This wasn't exactly breaking news to him, but he kept listening anyway. It was always possible he could learn something new.

"I saw him in the restaurant, Hunter. He was there with Randy…"
"Randy? Randy Orton?" Now, this was something he hadn't heard before. For all of Batista's claims that his recent lapses were due to a romantic liaison, Triple H had long suspected that his teammate was planning something far more treacherous. Perhaps he'd been lying about being in a relationship; maybe his sole reason for joining Evolution had been to corrupt young Randy, to turn the younger wrestler against him. "What the hell was Batista doing going for dinner with Randy Orton?"

"You tell me, Trips. That's why I thought I should let you know. Just doing my bit for Evolution, right?"

Triple H had to grin at that. It was so pathetic, it was almost cute; Edge had come to tell tales about Batista and Randy because he thought he could buy himself some protection from The Game. He kept on staring at Triple H expectantly, waiting for The Game to say something, probably hoping for some kind of fat reward. He could have stared all night for all Triple H cared, and the bigger man kept Edge waiting until he finally delivered some kind of answer.

"Alright, Edge,"he smirked. "Thanks for the tip-off."

"So... we're cool?"

"We're cool? What do you mean, we're cool?"

"I mean, uh... I guess what I mean... is.. um... if ever we get into a fight, you'll go easy on me, right?"

"Maybe, Edge." Hunter chuckled and patted the smaller wrestler on the shoulder, a patronising gesture which may or may not have held any real meaning. "Maybe."

"But…"

"But nothing, Edge. Goodnight." With an arrogant smirk, Triple H slammed the door in his face.

Despite Edge's rude interruption, Batista and Randy were able to brush aside the canine wrestler's comments and enjoy the rest of their meal in peace. As promised, Randy footed the bill and left a generous tip, and the two of them left the restaurant in high spirits, Randy giggling as Batista entertained him with stories of his early training. It was so easy to feel relaxed in the older man's company, and he was sure it wasn't just the wine that was making him feel light-headed. They walked at a leisurely pace through the gathering night, reaching the square in front of the hotel just as the sun began to set, and Batista led the two of them over to the large fountain in the centre of the plaza. There was a large pool surrounding the elegant water feature, and he sat himself down at the water's edge, inviting his partner to join him.

"Come here, Randy. I want to thank you for a wonderful evening." The larger man smiled and patted the lip of the pool, his grin widening further as Randy took a seat beside him. "I'm so proud of you, rookie - booking that table, covering the bill, even standing up to Edge like that. I thought I was supposed to be the one looking after you?"

"I guess it works both ways," Randy smirked, his cheeks flushing. Gingerly, he reached out a hand and place his fingers over Batista's, squeezing them gently. "I still don't get where Edge is coming from, though. What do you think he was trying to do?" Randy's brow creased into a frown. Even though he'd dealt admirably with Edge's crude interruptions, he was still puzzled as to why the hairy man would act in such a way.

"I don't know, Randy," Batista answered. "I guess he thinks he can buy himself some protection by getting in withEvolution or something."

"But he doesn't even like Triple H!"

"And you think a small detail like that would stop him from sucking up to Hunter? No chance." Batista allowed himself a sly chuckle. "Edge would sell his own grandmother if he thought it would get him a title shot."

Both of them had to laugh at that. Hell, Randy felt like laughing out loud at just about everything right now; life felt so good, so perfect, just sitting here in the twilight with his lover at his side. What more could he ask for? Even the World HeavyweightBelt dwindled into insignificance when compared to a romantic evening with Dave Batista. He glanced sidelong at the older man, savouring his every feature, reaching out his free hand to stroke at the miniscule goatee on his partner's chin.

"So, big guy... are you gonna kiss me or what?"

What else could Batista do but comply?

A short distance away, safely hidden by a row of shrubs and a carved stone bench, Triple H and Edge were settled down amongst the foliage, eagerly spying on Randy and Batista. After he'd been ejected from Triple H's hotel room, Edge had sulked for a while and decided to go for a walk in the plaza where the hotel was situated - and on his travels, he'd been lucky enough to spot the two members of Evolution returning from their evening meal, laughing and joking as if they'd known each other for years. He'd wasted no time in hurrying along and grabbing The Game, determined to prove his worth to the big man.

Hunter had been reluctant at first - his favourite soap had been on the television at the time - but Edge had insisted it would be a fruitful expedition.He'd brought along a pair of binoculars – in case of any sneaky photographers, he had claimed, although Hunter suspected it was more to do with the fact that Edge could see Stacy Kiebler's hotel room from his window. Anyway, they had already come in handy, and right now Edge was squinting through the lenses at the happy couple cuddled up by the fountain.

"Can you see anything?" Triple H growled, shifting uncomfortably and nudging his companion in the ribs for the seventh time. "They've been sitting there for at least five minutes now. Can't you lip read or something? What are they saying?"

"Shut it, Trips! They'll hear us for sure if you don't bite your tongue!" Edge hissed and lowered the binoculars, narrowing his eyes and glaring at The Game. "And no, of course I can't hear what they're saying! If you wanted sensitive listening equipment, you should have called the FBI!"

Triple H said nothing in response, but merely snorted irritably and squinted into the semi-darkness, suitably chagrined. Unlike Edge, he wasn't used to stealth and guile; he preferred the straightforward approach to things, relying on sheer strength and power to get his way. If the decision had been left to him, he would have charged right along to Batista's room and demanded to hear the truth. That way, he wouldn't have been stuck in a herbaceous border for half the night. It was going to take hours to pick off all the bits of mulch which were sticking to his shirt.

"Oooh! Wait, I think I see something!" Edge grinned and patted Triple H on the shoulder. "Their hands just touched… maybeRandy is trying to pass Batistaa secret message! They're smiling – they've got a secret they're not sharing…"

"Give me those." The Game pouted and snatched the binoculars from Edge's hands. He hated to think he was missing something. Pouting sullenly, he raised them to his eyes and fixed his vision on Randy Orton, trying to work out whether the younger wrestler was being swayed by any of Batista's words and reaching a negative conclusion. Suitably unimpressed, he passed the binoculars back to his companion with a dangerous growl. "You're full of bullshit, Edge. If I don't see anything interesting in the next five minutes, I'm going back inside."

"Suit yourself, but I swear they're up to something." Edge stared again at Randy and Batista, heaving a weary sigh. He'd hoped to get in with Triple H this evening, but so far all he'd done was antagonise the big man. All his plans to get on the good side of Evolution and guarantee himself some protection would come crashing down around his ears. Just then, however - just as he was starting to despair of uncovering any great wrestling conspiracy - Edge's jaw slackened in an amazed 'O' of surprise.

"Hunter – Hunter!"He spluttered, practically choking on his words. "You've got to see this, Hunter!"

"What?" Triple H was in a thoroughly foul mood now. His arms were numb, and he'd just knelt on a stone, not to mention that he had a large twig jabbing at his backside. "This had better be good, Fido."

"Randy and Batista!" Edge squeaked. "They're... they're…"

"They're what, Edge? Selling secrets to the Russians?"

"It's much worse than that, Trips!" he stammered, waving a finger towards The Game's lovestruck teammates. "They're… they're kissing!"