Del Rio has no match at TLC. Which he decides is just as well. He travels to the event anyway, the trainer wanting to re-evaluate him once more just to ensure he hadn't missed anything, but he also has other reasons to be there. Ricardo had tweeted earlier in the week that he'll be doing commentary again and Alberto smiles at the thought of getting to hear- see- his friend again, relaxed and at ease, passionately discussing WWE events with the other two men at the Spanish desk, even if it's just on the SAP version of TLC on one of the monitors at the arena, but still. Three and a half hours of watching him on TV is more than he's had of any kind of contact with his best friend in the last few months, and he'll take it.
Ultimately the trainer concludes that yes, he's doing better since the initial injury on Monday but urges Del Rio to take it easy anyway since he's lucky enough not to have a match scheduled tonight. Alberto smirks vaguely and considers returning to the main locker room where he had left his things before coming here, but instead ventures into catering, where it's somewhat quieter, most superstars either not here thanks to not being booked or because flights out of the east were hard to get due to the weather. Either way, there's a monitor by one of the tables so, after once more switching it to the Spanish feed, he sits with a mug of warm cocoa and watches the PPV, smiling slightly upon seeing his friend, all too aware of how close Christmas is as he peers down at the snowmen scattered around the mug held between his hands. Another holiday he and Sofia will have to navigate, only eased slightly by his brother's upcoming visit...
He sneers as a brawl in the panel booth overhead attracts Ricardo's attention, the younger man looking over his shoulder while Miz and Kofi's rivalry continues, Mike outright leaving the panel completely not even half way through the preshow due to it. Once that calms down and things return to status quo, the preshow match beginning, he sits back and half-watches, mostly just enjoying listening to Ricardo go back and forth with the other two Spanish announcers. It's amusing listening to Ricardo defend his opinions against the older commentator on the end whose name Del Rio had never bothered to learn, but who he's steadily growing a dislike for. Either way, Ricardo seems to be handling himself much easier than he had when doing commentary with Miz and Josh Mathews all of those months ago and it pleases Alberto to see.
He continues sipping slowly from his cocoa until it grows cool and unappetizing, the man putting the mug down and lounging back in his chair as he smirks a bit, comforted by the familiar drone of his former ring announcer's voice as he begins to drift off sitting up. He's groggy and unsure how much time has passed when some ruckus draws him out of his doze, making him sit up in alarm as he realizes that it's his best friend exclaiming in rapid Spanish and he sees- Cena and Orton's match is ongoing currently, and the two men are at ringside, Cena preparing to Attitude Adjust Orton through the table his friend had just vacated. His eyes narrow as the move is accomplished, Ricardo and the other two announcers looking unsettled at the destruction of their workspace.
"Hmph," he huffs, not caring to see the winner of this match, not when it's his World title hanging overhead, waiting to be rebranded as one with the WWE title, known from now on as the unified title. He can hear the soft rumble of the other wrestlers talking in the halls, watching in groups around the various monitors around gorilla as the latest momentous occasion occurs. This is a relief to him because it means the main locker room will be quiet and peaceful, allowing him to get his things and leave without much of a hassle. He takes the long route back to the room to avoid all of the people, quickly finding his bag and unzipping it to find his scarf, as it is somewhat chilly out, even for Texas. Except that he can't find it, his movements becoming jerky and frustrated as he digs through the various dark clothing and multi-colored wrestling gear without paying much attention, something causing him to stop short as he frowns, feeling an odd texture between his fingers.
"What is this?" he mutters, finally pulling the thing out and staring at it, not fathoming what it is or why it's in his bag, until... something clicks with him and he puts the item down, slowly tilting the bag over, feeling like he's in a dream, moving in slow motion. Sure enough, written on the luggage tag is a familiarly scrawled RR. He swallows, finally spotting his own bag where he had left it across the room and he moves over to it, staring at the ADR carefully written upon his luggage tag. Heavy eyes resting once more on the bizarre item he had laid on the bench next to Ricardo's bag, he walks back over to it and lifts it up, looking into the mesh eye-coverings of that strange El Local competitor's mask, shaking his head. "No, it- it can't be... this whole time?" Forgetting all about leaving, he stands and rushes out of the room, only thrown for a minute by the fact that the match is over, Randy Orton is the new undisputed champion.
He paces by gorilla, ignoring the eyes of everyone on him as he waits anxiously, relieved when the halls quiet, everyone who had hung around to see the aftermath of the match losing interest once Orton makes his way backstage, a defeated Cena stumbling past Del Rio a few minutes prior. Which means the announcers and other ringside workers are next and Alberto stares as they walk past him, none of them daring to look over at him. When the Spanish team pushes past the curtains, Ricardo's head tilted towards something being pointed out to him, Alberto's breath seizes in his throat and he wonders how he had never seen it before, that his best friend had been right in front of him the whole time. In hindsight, it's just so obvious.
He steps forward without thinking, blocking Ricardo's forward path, and when the ring announcer looks up and pales upon realizing that it's Alberto standing in front of him, he feels even worse. The other two men scramble away, not wanting to get caught up in the middle of whatever this is, and he sneers at their cowardice before turning all of his attention back on his trembling friend. "Ricardo," he says lowly.
"What do you want?" he asks tensely, fists twitching as he raises them slowly, clearly not about to go down without a fight, however feebly he might have been able to defend himself against his former employer in the past.
Alberto imagines, after all of the training he's subjected himself to the last couple of months, he'd put up a little better of a fight. The thought makes him smile faintly, causing Ricardo to look confused. Finally he shakes his head, clearing these thoughts from his mind as he lifts his hands. "This was you," he says lowly, both men staring down at the mask held carefully on the tips of his fingers. "This whole time- you were El Local."
Ricardo gasps and pales even further, reaching out for his mask. "No, no- let me have it," he pleads, looking like he thinks Alberto might tear to shreds yet another thing in his life that's important to him. "Por favor-"
His fingers are just touching the soft material of the eye meshes when Alberto closes his eyes and sighs. "I was a fool, mi amigo," he admits lowly. "I should've seen it the whole time. That you were him. All of the signs were there." He smiles sadly, staring down at the mask once more before carefully resting it in Ricardo's outstretched hand. "But I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to admit to myself that my actions had forced you to only feel comfortable being here under a mask." Their eyes lock and he shakes his head. "I am so, so very sorry, mi amigo."
Ricardo swallows, pressing the mask to his chest where he hugs it protectively, unable to look away from his former employer. "You... you're sincere," he whispers, his own realization washing over him like a paralyzing tidal wave. "Like... like when... when you were sick and you told me... I would always be your amigo. Or when you said you were proud of me, that- that night." His face crumpling, the ring announcer shudders when Alberto approaches him, a broken look on his face.
"You remember that?" he asks softly, hesitantly reaching out for him. When Ricardo nods tensely instead of bolting, he rests his hands on either side of the younger man's neck and squeezes gently, smiling sadly down at him.
"Si, I- I do," he breathes out, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I knew it- I just... that was the thing I didn't want to believe, during sleepless night after sleepless night trying to piece everything from the last few months together. That everything you did was your misguided attempt to somehow help me. It made no sense but yet it did, all at the same time, since I knew you so well..." He hesitantly reaches out with his free hand and clutches Alberto's suit, tugging slightly at the fabric as he looks up, trying to figure out an answer to all of the questions he'd had the last few months despite being aware that he'll not find them all at once, here, now. "Why? Why though? Just... why?"
Del Rio releases a soft sigh and lowers his eyes to rest on the mask in Ricardo's hand, forgotten by the younger man. "Every time I came home during your suspension, mi amigo, you looked so sad and disappointed in yourself. And I knew you were trying to keep yourself busy with your charity work with Alex Riley, but it wasn't helping. Things seemed to be getting worse for you the longer the suspension lasted and I really just... thought perhaps I was the problem, after everything you had been through on my behalf. So many injuries and derision from most of the locker room due to your affiliation to me." He looks back up and stares into Ricardo's eyes. "I was initially going to prepare you for it, and truly face you at Summerslam once you were back on the road. But Vickie Guerrero didn't take me seriously and ruined my plans, so I moved things up so I could try to concentrate on Christian. I had no time to forewarn you, nor much else, and now I see a million different ways I could've handled it, but at the time... it was the only thing I could think of. It was pure chance that Miz was there at commentary at the time, and I'm so glad you weren't alone that night." He carefully runs his fingers along Ricardo's trembling jaw muscles, shaking his head. "Mi amigo..."
"Yours was the only affiliation I cared about though," he cries out, uncaring about the people scattered around, able to overhear them while they finish up the post-event stuff. "All of the injuries, all of the hard times- none of it mattered as long as you were by my side, were my friend! That's all I ever truly needed!"
Alberto's breath seizes in his chest as he stares down at the broken man, the past five months of pain slowly pouring out of him as if it is as fresh as something that had just happened yesterday. Tears slowly pour down his face as well as he cups his friend's soaked face, finally pulling him close. He's not sure what to do, what to say, finally just rocking him back and forth while repeatedly apologizing to him. They stand there for he's not sure how long, finally pulling back to look down at his best friend. "Mi amigo, let's get out of here," he whispers sadly, wiping gingerly at his face. Ricardo looks suspicious, understandably so, and he closes his eyes, aware that he's got a long road ahead of him to even try to make any of this right for the younger man. "Everyone's gone and the arena staff will be kicking us out soon, I would imagine Mike has already left. I'll take you back to the hotel and we can talk some more... if that's alright with you..."
"Mike," he mutters, realizing that he's missed the time they'd agreed to meet up before they were supposed to leave. "I need to text him, he'll worry." He types out a quick text before looking up at the older man, sending it uncertainly. "If this is some sort of trap, or trick-"
"It's not, mi amigo," Alberto shakes his head slowly. "Por favor, we have so much to sort out still," he breathes after a few awkward moments where Ricardo spends the time considering what he's been told, and how much else he wants, needs to know. "Please come back with me." He finally concedes quietly, his shoulders slumping slightly as he follows the other man to get their things so they can leave. Alberto smiles as he leans over his bag, never so relieved as he is in this moment that they had matching luggage. Something attracts his attention, however, and he looks up. "Mi amigo, why were your things in here anyway? I thought you stayed in the divas champion locker room with Miz?"
Ricardo looks up, blinking in surprise. "Oh, uh, si, normally, but sometimes the locker rooms are really small and it gets crowded with all of us and our bags in there, so I'll store my stuff in here."
Alberto releases a soft huh, adding to the list of things he has to be relieved about that the personal locker rooms do run small now and again, depending on the arena they're in. "I see." Ricardo gets ready first, waiting patiently while Alberto collects his unused things that he had set around just in case the trainer should clear him and a match should be made. Which hadn't happened. Ricardo instinctively reaches out for his knee brace, about to fold it and place it back in Alberto's bag, when the Mexican aristocrat carefully snags his wrist, stopping him. When Ricardo looks up fearfully, Alberto traces circles in his skin with his thumb, smiling through the pain that that expression on his friend's face causes him. "You do not work for me anymore, mi amigo. It is not your job to help me pack, or anything else. I can handle it alright." He nods and Del Rio gingerly releases his hand, quickly collecting the rest of his things and stuffing it back into the bag. "Alright, are you ready?"
"Si, I- I think so," Ricardo nods grimly, scooping his bag up and hesitating, unsure due to those reports about Alberto's concussion from the week prior. "Can you-?"
"Si, I have it," Alberto whispers, taking a moment to absorb all of this as they begin walking side by side down the hall, as they had done hundreds of times before in the past. As they had done just moments before he had so cruelly attacked his best friend back in August and set all of this in motion. It's overwhelming, it's incredible. He doesn't know what to do with all of the emotions he's feeling. And it's only multiplied when they arrive at the hotel and Ricardo stands in the doorway, staring blankly at the two beds, Alberto flushing softly. "I still forget... a lot... when I book these rooms, that it's just me," he explains, losing control of himself and almost stuttering a time or two. "I suppose tonight it was a good thing." He rests his bag down on the floor at the end of his bed and smiles at Ricardo, who hasn't moved an inch. "Mi amigo... por favor... come inside."
Lips parting in realization, he does walk into the room then, the door swinging shut behind him with a loud click that makes him jerk and fumble with his bag. "Eh..."
"It's fine, mi amigo," Alberto tells him quietly. "There's no need to be nervous. We- we can do whatever you want. Sleep, or just watch TV, or-"
"I want to know everything," he mutters, staring at his white knuckled grip on his bag before he carefully lowers it to the floor and once more turns to look at his former employer. "From the beginning, why- why you did it, what- what I did wrong that made it so easy for you to... to..." Tears start filling his eyes again and Alberto shakes his head violently.
"No, no, mi amigo! None of this was ever easy!" he gasps out, rushing over to him and cupping his hands, gentling his grip when Ricardo flinches away, eyed wide with fright. "Por favor, let's sit down, I'll explain," he beseeches, realizing that it's starting to slip through his fingers, the younger man growing more anxious instead of less. He's relieved when the younger man sniffs and nods, slowly following him over to a table with two chairs on either side of it. They sit face to face, Ricardo immediately finding a pen resting on the room service menu and fumbling with it as he always does when anxious. Alberto finds it bizarrely comforting in its familiarity so he says nothing about it, choosing instead to delve right into his memories of the past few months, his motivation, all of it- trying to keep his thoughts and the sequence of events lined up correctly as he explains the night that he'd lost to RVD and turned on Ricardo, and every night since, his dark eyes locked on the ring announcer's pale face.
It seems to take forever and yet go by in a few minutes all at once as the silence beyond Del Rio's voice leaves them in a little bubble of nothing but the past few months' terrible chain of events, Ricardo sniffing quite a few times as he winces through various recollections of Alberto's, even some that he himself doesn't remember fully due to being unconscious or in too much pain. When Del Rio's voice finally fades away, leaving them at tonight, when he'd found the El Local mask, the ring announcer nods slowly and buries his face in his hands, obviously overwhelmed. "Mi amigo," Alberto whispers, his own eyes prickling as he reaches out just to hesitate, not sure if his touch would be welcomed right now. "Lo siento... I never meant for things to go so badly-"
"Maybe not," he breathes out. "But they did... and now what? What am I supposed to do with any of this?"
Alberto licks his lips, wanting so badly just to urge the younger man to be his friend again, allow him to help him put it all behind them, but even he can see how unfair pushing this matter would be. "Right now, tonight?" he asks, smiling wanly when Ricardo peeks at him through his fingers. "Nothing. You lay down and get some sleep, and prepare for the drive to Raw tomorrow. That's all you have to do, mi amigo. I require nothing else from you. I understand all too well how much thinking you will have to do to try to sort all of this out. If you even want to." He also wouldn't blame him if he'd just decided to write Alberto off even after all that he'd just confessed, aware that it's a lot. More than likely too much, even for someone so loyal and kind as Ricardo to just accept. He'd lived it and he still has trouble accepting that he'd done all of that to his best friend, after all. Especially now.
The younger man says nothing, tugging slightly at his dark hair for what feels like forever, before he slowly stands up and stumbles over to the unused bed, kicking his shoes off and hesitantly snuggling under the sheets with his back to Alberto. Del Rio sighs softly before leaning back against the chair, curious if he'll be able to sleep at all after everything. But it appears that he does, the long night of commentating probably assisting with that as his breath slowly evens out and soothes Alberto with its familiar cadence. It's equally as hard for him to lay down and try to rest, Alberto wanting nothing more than to watch his best friend sleep and comfort himself with the knowledge that this is not a dream, that he's really here, and knows everything, and perhaps, just maybe... they'll be alright again someday, but his head is throbbing more and more insistently the later it gets so he closes his eyes and before long, his and Ricardo's breathing patterns sync up, both fast asleep and far beyond any possible nightmares they could have to ruin this night.
Beep. Beep. Beep!
Ricardo groans as the familiar sound grows more and more insistent, his hand fumbling around for the table- which isn't there, his phone isn't there, and... "What the..." He realizes the sound is coming from the bedding he's tangled up in right now and finally he locates the cool device, pulling it up to squint at it in the sunshine gleaming through the hotel windows. He doesn't remember setting his alarm, he actually doesn't remember a lot from the night before, adding to his confusion, but- he quickly realizes it's not the alarm, a game alert flashing across the screen. Invite to play Star Wars Angry Birds from vivadelrio...
He drops the phone with a sharp gasp, roughly remembering everything from the night before in a flood of emotions and memories that make him want to do nothing more than hide somewhere safe. Though he has no possible idea where that's at right now as he can just sense that Alberto is between him and the door, and as fast as he is, he could never outrun his employer, though he'd never had much reason to until recently. Sitting up, he looks around desperately and- sure enough, Alberto is watching him curiously from the other bed, his phone in hand as his brows furrow. "It's ok, amigo. Just relax- you're safe here, I promise you-"
"No, no, why am I here?" he mutters, scrambling to free himself from the sheets. "I can't- I can't..."
"Mi amigo," Alberto whispers, growing more and more worried that, after all of the progress he thought they'd made, Ricardo really would find it that easy to just walk away. No matter how much Alberto would understand, he can't imagine it- not after everything, a life without his best friend. It's unfathomable. Leaves him gasping for air. "Por favor, just... give yourself a second to think, that's all I ask of you."
Ricardo shakes his head, clearly wondering why Alberto deserves to ask anything of him, and Alberto finds himself wondering the same thing, but after a moment, the younger man's hands stop trembling quite so badly and he takes deep breath after deep breath, eyes downcast. "It was real. You meant everything you said. And you aren't even denying it this time, or- or trying to take it back."
"No, I won't be taking it back this time, mi amigo," Del Rio nods, some hope blossoming once more as he watches him struggle to make sense of all of this still. "You deserved to hear all of this weeks... months ago... I am so very sorry that it took me this long to find the courage, Ricardo."
He sobs and shudders, still unable to make sense of half of this, when... his phone beeps again. "I must be so rusty by now," he breathes, staring at the screen, the invitation still there, waiting for some sort of a response. It seems so silly to be considering playing a game seriously like the last few months hadn't happened, but Alberto is staring at him with such painful hope in his eyes that he's not sure how he can deny him. "I haven't played since... since..." He looks away and Alberto closes his eyes, hating himself yet again.
"I'm sure you'll do fine, mi amigo," he tells him comfortingly. "If you don't want to play, however..." Before he can say or do anything else, there's a soft chime from his phone and his face lights up as he looks at it to find Challenge accepted flashing across the screen before they begin to play. Both are amazed when, after exchanging wins back and forth for quite awhile, they look up to find almost an hour has passed, Ricardo gasping. "Ay, we need to start getting ready now if we're going to make the drive to Raw," Alberto realizes also. "I'll challenge you to a rematch some other time, mi amigo."
Ricardo pauses for a moment, realizing this means they'll have to drive all the way to the next arena together, but ultimately nods. "Si, al- alright... I guess I would like that." They had ended the game with a tied amount of wins and it eats at both of their competitive natures but that can wait; risking getting in trouble with the Authority isn't something either man wants to do, especially now when neither of their careers are necessarily stellar.
Ricardo drives this time, needing something to keep his hands busy, the two men silent as they go from town to town towards where Raw is going to be held that evening, only looking over at Alberto when he starts to mess with the radio, surprised.
"I found this station while driving to the arena yesterday, mi amigo, and I thought you would like it," he explains lowly, turning to it in time to hear the tail end of the disc jockey announcing that he'd be playing Sevendust shortly. As Ricardo's eyes light up, Alberto smiles, turning his attention to the world outside zipping by as his former ring announcer enjoys the music, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel in time with the beat.
They arrive at the hotel first, Ricardo watching as Alberto books a room, his fingers pressed tightly together as he listens, waiting to see what Alberto will do- "One bed," he requests quietly, some of the tension easing out of the younger man as he releases a soft sigh. Del Rio smiles bittersweetly, understanding- he doesn't want to force the young man into feeling obligated to stay with him. If he's more comfortable sharing hotel rooms with Miz, Alberto doesn't blame him. Last night had merely been convenient, considering all that they had had to talk about. He gets his room keys from the woman and thanks her briskly before turning back to him. "I need to drop something off at my room before going to the arena, if you want to meet up with Miz, that's fine." It's difficult to spit the words out, Alberto wanting nothing more than to spend more time with Ricardo, but he also knows that he has to be careful, patient. Things he normally aren't at all, but this isn't about him anymore. If he's going to have any chance at repairing things with the wary man before him, he has to tread carefully.
"I texted him," Ricardo explains lowly. "He's already at the arena..." He fumbles with his phone a bit before stuffing it into his pocket. "If you don't mind, we can... um..."
Alberto catches on, nodding. "Of course, mi amigo. Whatever you feel comfortable with." He lifts his bag and heads for the elevator, unable to help the smile that crosses his face as Ricardo follows him. When they arrive, the younger man excuses himself, ducking into the bathroom, and Del Rio rests his bag down by the bed, digging through it for a few things. He gets the feeling that the trainer will continue to be hesitant to allow him to compete, despite his being cleared, but he wants to be prepared anyway, double checking his wrestling gear before pushing some gifts he had bought for Sofia and Memo while here under the bed, looking up and listening before a third follows it, Alberto careful to ensure that the last especially isn't visible, not wanting Ricardo to know or feel obligated to buy him something in return. He sighs, listening to the running water in the bathroom and wonders what the younger man is doing, before shrugging- I'm not paying the water bill- and dropping down onto the bedding, his eyes fluttering.
He hadn't slept that well the night before, the two of them staying up so late talking that once he had fallen asleep, he had forgotten about his alarm set to wake him up so he could make this drive in a timely fashion... which had left him only sleeping for a few hours. Ricardo seems to be handling it all better, but he has felt worn down since his concussion, so he assumes that's most of the reason why he can barely keep his eyes open, not wanting to face that maybe the trainer is right after all. So he doesn't fight it, breathing softly as he melts into the sheets. Ricardo won't let me miss anything, he will wake me up before I'm late for Raw, he thinks with a small smile, glad to have someone to depend on again, even if it's just for now.
"Ah, Alberto-" Ricardo is saying as he leaves the bathroom a few minutes later, patting his face dry with a towel. "The bathroom is free if you-" His words die away as he realizes the older man is fast asleep, sprawled along his bed and he freezes, eyes wide. "Oops," he mumbles, approaching the bed. Not sure what to do, he reaches out towards him but pauses, taking in the weary look about Alberto's eyes. Even in sleep, he looks exhausted and worn. His phone is resting on the table next to the bed and Ricardo winces in disbelief at what he's about to do, picking it up. He shuffles through his contacts before finding the tech that Alberto uses to get information about events from, accessing the New Text screen. Am I scheduled for a match tonight? he sends off after a moment of thought, watching the Mexican aristocrat sleep while he waits for a response. When it finally comes, he's relieved to see that the answer is no, gently laying the phone down where it had been.
He breathes heavily for a moment before pulling Alberto's shoes off and lifting his legs up onto the bed so he looks more comfortable, smiling slightly as he rolls over and curls his arm around the pillows, murmuring under his breath but not waking up. "Rest well," he whispers before wandering around, collecting his things and leaving the room, knowing that the man needs sleep more than he needs to be around such a high octane place like the WWE arena, especially when recently suffering a concussion.
When Alberto awakens, he's groggy and disoriented, fumbling around. "Ricardo? Mi amigo, what time is it?" he calls out, frowning when he hears nothing. "Eh..." Rolling over, he spots his phone and grips it, squinting at the time. "Que?!" 11:49 PM... "No, no... What the-?" His growing rant dies away as quickly as it started when he spots a slip of paper next to where his phone had been, picking it up to find his best friend's scrawl filling the few lines. "You looked like you needed sleep more than anything else, I contacted Liam and he confirmed there were no matches scheduled for you tonight, so I let you rest. I probably overstepped but we both know concussions are nothing to joke around with. -RR," he reads aloud, closing his eyes at the tentative nature of even his written words. "Mi amigo," he mutters, feeling bad for getting annoyed with the younger man for yet again just trying to look out for him, even after everything. He decides to abide by Ricardo's wishes, still feeling a little rough and tired, rolling back over and falling asleep for a few more hours before his flight back to California.
The next morning, he feels a bit better and makes his way to the airport, struggling with the bag which is now weighed down with the gifts he'd found for everyone. He watches as TSA does their thing, daring them to try to confiscate the items, but eventually they let him through and he smirks as he grabs his carry on and heads over to wait to board- just to trip over a fold in the carpet in his hurry, his breath forced from his lungs as he flies forward, bracing himself to hit the hard floor when... he's caught haphazardly under the arms by someone- familiar, warm, and... He looks up, nearly knocked breathless to find he's staring up at his best friend, Ricardo gaping down at him as he supports him. "Er," he mutters, trying to recollect himself in a hurry. "Lo siento, mi amigo, I- idiota carpeting," he grouses, stomping on the portion which had tripped him.
"It's fine," Ricardo says, collecting his bag from where it had skid and handing it over to him. "Did you rest well?"
"Si, I did, gracias," he responds, dusting his bag off. "It- you knew exactly what I needed." He smiles wanly as Ricardo nods grimly. "I suppose this means we're on the same flight back then."
"It, it seems so, si," the ring announcer nods, looking away. Alberto watches him for a long moment, the wheels in his mind slowly turning, when Ricardo begins to turn away. "I should-"
"Amigo, wait," he says, reaching out and catching his hand. "This may be asking a bit too much of you, but... there is something I need to ask you to do for me once we're back in Florida." When he turns back to his former employer, Alberto smiles, relieved that he's at least not denying him without letting him explain what he's thinking about.
Alberto has never been happier to see his home, its sprawling grounds beautiful in the mid-afternoon sun, sparkling off of the windows invitingly. As he unlocks his front door and peers around, smiling, he has to admit that things just feel different now. Not as sad, or as dark, or as lonely. He's missed this feeling. And, it being the holiday season and all, he wants to spread the joy around a bit. "Sofia!" he calls out for the housekeeper, smiling as her footsteps immediately head his way. "I have a surprise for you."
She's just entered the room, smiling indulgently as she says, "But senor, it's not even a week to Christmas yet-" when something about him makes her stop short. "Ay, senor, are you... alright?" she asks hesitantly, approaching him. She had heard about his concussion, but he had promised her that the trainer had said he'd be alright with some rest, his latest recommendation being that he take a short break just to ensure that his concussion symptoms don't return, and for them to revisit the topic after the holidays. He is considering it, but that's not what's important right now.
"I'm perfect, Sofia," he tells her with a small smile, squeezing her shoulders warmly. "Are you ready for your surprise?"
She frowns and looks into his deep, gleaming brown eyes before sighing, still wary about his happiness. It could mean either something good- or something dangerous, his emotions always so all over the place. She just hopes whatever it is he's done won't get him in trouble with the WWE. "Si, I suppose so," she agrees faintly.
He beams down at her, turning back to the open door. "Por favor, come in," he calls out, Sofia's eyes locked on him, the woman perplexed as she hears footsteps approaching. He turns to stare back at her and chuckles as she shakes her head, not understanding- when a form fills the doorway and her eyes skitter towards it, her brain not accepting what she's seeing. "Sofia, so much has happened," he whispers as Ricardo and the housekeeper stare at each other, both looking more than a little dazed. Alberto steps back and waits patiently as the two most important people in his life stand frozen and unsure what to do.
"Sofia," Ricardo finally breathes and this brings the housekeeper to life as tears fill her eyes, slowly walking towards him. "It's so good to see you," he whispers, crying too as she rests her hands on his face.
"It's really you," she murmurs. "You- you... you're really here."
"I am," he nods through his tears. "I am so sorry, Sofia, Alex told me you said I could call anytime, it just- it hurt too much, I should've-"
She shakes her head almost violently. "No, no, senor, you don't need to apologize or explain, I understand! Oh, senor," she weeps, throwing her arms around him and pulling him close. "I've been so worried about you."
"I'm ok," he whispers into her hair, hugging her back. "I... Alex and Mike have taken good care of me."
"I'm so glad to hear that," she tells him, pulling away and once more cupping his face as if afraid to stop looking at or touching him for too long, should he disappear all over again. "I've missed you so much, senor."
"I've missed you too, but Sofia..." He smiles down at her, cupping her hands with his. "We aren't colleagues anymore, and I know I've requested this of you before, but perhaps now... we can just be friends and you can... start calling me Ricardo?"
She sniffs and strokes his face before nodding, a wavering smile twitching at her lips. "Si, I- I can try, sen-... Ricardo," she breathes, chuckling softly as he grins, eyes lighting up.
Alberto watches on fondly as the two of them softly talk in Spanish, catching up on the last few months that they had spent apart after his rash actions. This is my Christmas present, right here, he thinks. I don't require, nor do I deserve, anything else this year.