"Mol, can I ask you a question?" Trish spoke, breaking the silence that had previously filled the locker room.
Molly glanced over at her friend, immediately dropping the magazine she was reading. Trish had been such a recluse lately, she'd take any opportunity she had to talk.
"Sure Trish, what's up?"
"This might sound a little odd, but what do you think of Batista?" Trish asked.
Molly laughed for a split second, till Trish's expression told her she was not kidding. Why, of all people, would she ask about Batista?
"Honestly? I feel bad for the guy," she replied. "I mean, he's stuck with Triple H and Ric Flair, and they obviously use him for his strength."
"Yeah," Trish agreed. Molly's response was almost identical to her own thoughts.
"What's worse," Molly continued, "is that I think he knows that they use him. He knows they're holding him back, and he can't do a thing about it because they made him."
Trish frowned. All this time, she had seen Dave the way Evolution had portrayed him: a cold, unthinking, unfeeling neanderthal. The past two encounters she had with him certainily proved otherwise. Could it be that she had him all wrong?
"I saw him in the hallway the other day," Trish began, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "He caught me in the worst mood, and he was so sweet to me. He asked if I was alright, said he couldn't help but stop to make sure I was okay."
Molly nodded, "I knew it. I knew he was different. I knew from the night they kicked Randy out of Evolution that he was different. He didn't have the same look in his eyes."
"I'm starting to believe that myself," Trish said, thinking of Batista's attitude as of late. "He hasn't seemed very happy lately."
The women fell into silence, and Trish's gaze dropped to the floor. There was something about him that had her so intrigued. She had barely spoken two words to him before a few weeks ago, and she found herself increasingly curious. She actually wanted to get to know him.
"I was so rude to him the other day," Trish observed, drawing her gaze back up to her brunette friend. "He really went out of his way to see if I was alright, and I was a total bitch."
"So go talk to him and apologize," Molly suggested. "Who knows, maybe it'll spark a conversation, and who knows where that could lead."
The blonde haired diva remained still, pursing her lips together. It wasn't a bad idea.
"Okay," she agreed with a firm nod. "I'll go talk to him. Thanks, Mol."
As Trish rose from her seat, Molly remembered that there was something she needed to tell her. It was a topic that she thought about constantly in recent weeks, but she couldn't find the right words. She had no idea how Trish would react.
"Trish, wait," she called just as she had reached the door. "I need to tell you something."
Pausing at the door, Trish turned back to her friend. She placed a hand on her hip, eyeing Molly expectantly. Feeling herself chickening out, Molly frowned. Talking herself out of it, she shook her head, forcing a smile.
"It can wait... go talk to Dave."
After taking Molly's advice to go and apologize to Dave, Trish stood by the door to Evolution's locker room. She was a little nervous to knock on the door, so she decided to hang around in the area until Dave emerged. It was childish, but she really didn't feel like dealing with the other members of Evolution.
While standing there, she picked up traces of Triple H's voice, and he was obviously lecturing Dave again. The discussion peaked her interest, and she leaned a little towards the door, hearing bits and pieces of the conversation. From what she heard, Triple H was attempting to talk Dave out of participating in the Royal Rumble match at the upcoming pay-per-view. Eric Bischoff had already given him the opportunity to qualify for a spot in a match the following week.
Trish rolled her eyes... it was so typical of the champion, once again trying to talk himself out of defending his title. It was really pathetic. Granted, she hadn't always honorably defended her title in the past, but she never turned down a challenge.
A pang of sympathy hit her heart for Dave as Hunter continued his tirade. The Game sure loved to hear the sound of his own voice. He compared Dave to Randy Orton, claiming his interest in the World Heavyweight Championship was selfish. Then, for the first time since she'd approached, Dave got the chance to speak.
"You know what Hunter, you're right," Dave said, though his tone said otherwise. "No one likes a selfish, self-centered egomaniac."
Trish's jaw dropped at what she knew was a blatant attack on Triple H. A small smile played on her lips as he stood up for himself. She could hear heavy footsteps coming towards the door. However, it swung open so fast she didn't get a chance to move out of the way. As Dave stormed out of the room, the door barrelled into Trish, knocking her off balance. She groaned, and once he noticed what he had done, he approached her.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry," he said, a sincere look of concern in his eyes. "I didn't see you there."
Shaking off the impact of the blow, Trish grabbed Dave's forearm to steady herself.
"It's alright," she said, shaking her head. "I really shouldn't have been standing here, anyway."
The hard expression left on Batista's face by his talk with Triple H and Ric Flair softened. He ran his hand up Trish's arm, unable to ignore the softness of her skin.
"No, no, I threw that door open way too fast. Anyone could have been there..."
"I'm fine," she insisted with a laugh. Then, as his hand brushed her arm again, her breath caught in her throat. "But I'm glad I caught you, Dave, because I wanted to talk to you."
Guiding her away from the door, Dave nodded.
"Okay, shoot," he told her, leaning against the wall.
"I... I wanted to apologize, for the way I acted last time I saw you," she admitted, glancing down. "I really do appreciate your concern, I was just in a terrible mood."
"Hey, I understand the feeling," he said, shaking his head. "It's not a big deal."
"Yeah, I know, but I still feel terrible," Trish said. "Let me make it up to you. If you're not doing anything, maybe we could go get something to eat, my treat."
Dave smiled at her offer. He certainly had her read wrong.
"You don't have to do that," he said, laughing softly.
"No, I insist," Trish pressed, looking up at him. "I was hoping we could continue talking..."
Dave raised an eyebrow at her. He had been looking for the opportunity to really talk to her, and she had practically handed it to him.
"You know what, Trish? I'd love to."
