They're all busy, War Games looming. Candice rests her head against the top rope and tries to breathe, desperate not to completely lose her mind when the match is still days away, and someone has to keep it together while Shotzi's team has the advantage and her team is already somewhat vulnerable with Indi injured and Raquel a little out of it following the ladder match.
Johnny is behind her, muttering to himself, picking at his lip as he mulls over a triple threat match against Priest and Ruff. They're both so lost in their own issues that neither notice as the door to the Performance Center creaks open and someone enters. They do, however, notice, when a familiar laugh echoes through the room.
"Of course. Guess we all had the same idea," Tommaso Ciampa says dryly, intense eyes locked on them. Johnny swallows and Candice pushes away from the ropes, approaching her husband to look down at the man curiously.
She exhales and raises a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Guess so." There's no bitterness in her tone, frankly she's glad to see him up on his feet, looking normal. Thatcher leaving him laying motionless with a demented grin on his face Wednesday had been hard to watch, memories flashing of his neck injury and everything that had come from it.
Johnny hasn't moved or spoken, simply staring down at Ciampa with a dazed look in his eyes, and Candice shakes her head. "Wanna join us?" she asks when it's clear her husband can't. "We're trying to prepare for War Games."
Ciampa doesn't answer yes or no, simply hops up onto the apron and looks Johnny square in the eye until he shuffles aside, allowing Ciampa to enter. The three of them stand in the ring, not quite looking at each other, and when Tommaso finally moves to begin stretching, Johnny settles in at Candice's side to watch him. "What are we doing?" he asks her and she shrugs again.
"I guess we'll find out," she murmurs.
It's a simple ritual, especially before a Takeover. The three of them in the ring, training, sometimes by themselves, something Johnny with Candice, or Candice with Tommaso. It's when the former tag partners are working against each other, though, that that old spark is relit, and Ciampa's eyes blaze with determination and stubborn pride, fighting back twice as hard. Gargano wheezes after a particularly sharp jab to his ribs, gripping Tommaso around the throat and pinning him in place, relieved in some way as Tommaso scrambles, knees Johnny in the side and frees himself. They lay, gasping for air, Candice hovering over them with a concerned look on her face, before she reaches out and grips Johnny's hand, dragging him upright.
As soon as he's somewhat stable, he leans over Ciampa and tilts his head. "Like that," he says quietly. "Fight like that, and you have a chance." Ciampa snarls slightly, but they meet each other halfway, Gargano pulling him to his feet. They then stare at each other for long, tense moments, before Candice clears her throat.
"Let's go get some hot cocoa after we clean up," she says quietly, unsurprised when Ciampa's eyes turn her way. "Apple cider for you. Of course."
Something shifts in Ciampa's face, and for the first time in she can't even remember how long, he smiles, just a lttle, at her. "Fine," he breathes, brushing past her to hit the showers first.
Johnny glances at her, his eyes brighter than they've been in quite awhile, and even she has to admit she feels lighter as she follows them both backstage. Pausing at the light switch, she glances back at the ring and exhales. "I guess Christmas miracles are possible," she whispers, before plunging the training room into darkness.