Alberto is exhausted, worn. He stares vacantly at his World title and shakes his head, the usual thrumming in his veins to compete, prove himself again, missing for the first time that he can remember. He swallows and looks up when there's a soft knock at his door. "Come in, Sofia," he says quietly, watching as the door slowly creaks open, his housekeeper glancing in at him with a wary smile. Though he'd confessed all to her and she'd been much warmer to him since, he can tell things are going to be awkward between them for awhile. Perhaps because she's not used to it just being them, trying to make things work without Ricardo's stabilizing presence easing his at times volatile temper.
"Don't you need to leave for Raw shortly, senor?" she asks. "Your flight should be leaving in the next..."
"I canceled it," he tells her, standing from his bed and laying the title reverently on his dresser. "I am not in the mood to be present at Raw tonight. Without Cena there, what is the point? More pointless matches, after I have already shown my intentions on Smackdown..." His voice dies away when he realizes the hesitation in her gaze at just how callously he's talking about what he had done to the announcer. He winces and turns to face her. "I will perhaps feel more like flying out for Smackdown, but... it has been a long week and I merely want to remain here, regain my bearings."
She stares at him and nods slowly, remembering the look in his eye the night before as he'd collapsed at her feet and confessed all of his faulty attempts at freeing Ricardo from this life. "Of course, senor. I understand." She smiles faintly. "What do you want for lunch, then?"
Alex and Ricardo sit once more in their apartment, Alex digging away at a pumpkin one-handed while Ricardo holds it for him, the two of them only half listening to Raw as they wait for a glimpse of Mike, almost dreading what exactly the Wyatts will bring his way this time. His grip on the tool provided by the pumpkin carving kit slips, nearly ruining his so far careful work, when they both tense up as a retrospective clip of Del Rio airs, Ricardo's back thankfully to it as Alex takes in how it includes clips of the numerous beatdowns Del Rio had provided to him over the last few months, his lips twisting unhappily.
Ricardo can tell what was shown without even watching, based just by the look on his roommate's face and, abandoning the pumpkin, he takes a breath, fumbling around for his phone. As he types something up, he looks over at Alex. "When did your doctor say you could begin rehabbing your shoulder?"
A-Ri blinks in surprise, glancing over at his bandaged arm. "Uh, in the next couple of weeks. Staff at the performance center are gonna handle it, so I can get cleared to wrestle sooner. Why?"
Ricardo looks somewhat pleased with this answer as he presses the send button on his phone, Alex's phone lighting up a few moments later. "I want to come with you. I want... to learn more. I want to... wrestle." He'd had a few matches in the past, yes, but considering how Del Rio had betrayed him, and Rob had left, he thinks perhaps honing his craft, losing the rust the last few years had provided him since leaving California would help him in the long run to be more independent, able to hold his own in the ruthless business.
Alex blinks, reading over his tweet a time or two before nodding slowly, lips twitching. "Sure, man. That... sounds like a plan," he says, imagining the younger man competing on his own. "Heck, I know what you're capable of," he smirks, remembering being dropkicked clear out of the ring by him years back, the first sign of ability he'd really shown in actual wrestling. He looks forward to seeing what all the man can accomplish on his own.
Alberto stares out over his yard from a window, frowning in displeasure. He'd wanted to perhaps go out, distract himself from everything going on, but it had chose today to rain... of course... He rests his forehead against the glass and grimaces, wishing it would stop and the sun could come out so he could leave the quiet of the house for awhile, still not quite used to how... empty the house is without Ricardo's presence.
Finally bored of watching the rain pelting the windows, he pulls away and tugs his phone out, idly going through his twitter timeline. Nothing fascinates him until... his eyes fall upon Ricardo's twitter handle and he swallows, reading the tweets from the younger man about going to the Performance Center in Orlando to 'learn how to wrestle', Del Rio remembering how it had felt when he'd come from Mexico and had to learn a more American style of competition. Though he had hated it, it had been beneficial, helped him grow as a competitor. He blinks a few times, recalling the things he'd helped Ricardo learn during their time together, lips twitching. I suppose this way he could truly make a name for himself, and not depend on clients to have a place in the WWE. After what Van Dam did... not to mention myself... he thinks, running a finger across the screen thoughtfully. Which is all I wanted for him from the beginning of this whole mess. Amigo, I hope it goes well for you. I have no doubt you'll give it your all, as you do everything.
The rest of Wednesday passes quietly, Alberto finally forcing himself to concentrate on his match against Cena, watching as many of his opponent's matches as he can stand to prepare for Hell in a Cell until he falls asleep, unable to keep his eyes open any longer as the TV drones on. When he wakes up, it's morning and the sun is shining in the living room, the TV is off, and a soft blanket is wrapped around him, bringing a smile to his face as he pulls it up to his chin, early mornings becoming a bit cool even in Florida as a fall chill begins to take over the states. "Sofia," he mumbles, relieved that the housekeeper is on his side once more.
Sitting up, he runs his fingers through his hair and stares ahead blankly, wondering what to do today while still pondering traveling out for Smackdown the following night. After missing Raw, he's pretty sure he will, even if it's just to address the crowd and get in one last insult towards Cena before the pay per view, but it still leaves him with hours to fill and not much to do... Getting an idea, he quickly stands and walks towards his bedroom to prepare for the day.
Alex watches from ringside, his good arm resting against the apron with his recently surgically repaired arm held at his side protectively. Inside the ring, Ricardo is working with one of the head trainers of NXT, listening to the man's instructions intently before successfully snapping off a headlock takeover after a couple of tries, his face immediately lighting up once his own achievement clicks with him. "I did it!" he exclaims, looking out at Alex.
"That's great, man!" he grins, relieved to see his roommate looking so pleased, and gaining just a little bit of self-confidence with what he's slowly beginning to accomplish on his own. The trainer makes him try it a time or two more before announcing that Ricardo had done enough for one day, urging him to go shower, relax, and come back tomorrow. Alex follows him backstage, listening as he talks on excitedly about how he'd like to learn a moonsault soon, rubbing the shorter man's neck carefully, well aware of his many issues over the years that had been aggravated a little bit with all of the training he'd done the past few days. After a moment, something nearby catches his eyes and he swallows, frowning. "Um, Ricardo?"
"Si?" the former ring announcer asks, blinking as he turns to look at him. "What is it, Alex?"
"What's that?" he mumbles uncertainly, unable to look away from the dark and vaguely familiar thing laying on a nearby table. Ricardo follows his line of sight and swallows harshly, recognizing it also. "Ricardo-"
He shakes his head, brushing past him as he walks over to the item and pulls it from the wood, staring down at it. "It... it's... It's one of Alberto's scarves," he whispers plaintively, frowning down at it. "But why... why is it here..." He looks up uncertainly and shakes his head. "Alberto was here... watching?" Alex has no reasonable explanation for the older man's actions, holding his breath as he walks over to Ricardo, staring down at the scarf quietly. "He makes no sense," he mutters. "Admittedly, he was at times confusing even when I worked for him, but since... since he did... that, it's grown even worse. It's like he can't make up his mind whether he wants to help me or work against me, and he claims this all was to protect me." Leaning against the table, his hands still wrapped up in his former employer's scarf, he closes his eyes and shakes his head, lifting it hesitantly before pressing it to his face, its softness soothing against his skin as he smells the soap that Sofia prefers mixed in with the lingering scent of Alberto's aftershave.
Alex takes a breath before standing next to him, arm to arm. "Didn't he give you one of those scarves before? When you were about to compete against Big Show?"
Ricardo's eyes gleam at the memory before he shakes his head. "He did, si, but when I failed to uphold my promise to him to defeat the Big Show, I gave the scarf back to him because... I did not feel worthy of it." His voice grows distant as he stares again at the scarf, lips trembling faintly. "He told me then... when I did feel worthy of it, he would return it to me."
Alex watches him for a long moment, the pieces slowly falling into place as he expects he now understands why the scarf is here, now. He glances back out towards the ring, smiling slightly. I suppose Del Rio was staying true to his word... "Do you feel worthy of it now, Ricardo?" The younger man doesn't say anything for a few minutes, letting the question hang in the air between them until Alex finally gives up on waiting for an answer, his hand slowly returning to Ricardo's neck, where he squeezes gently. "C'mon, man, let's go home. It's been a long morning."
That night, Alex is preparing for bed when he stops in front of Ricardo's bedroom, taking a deep breath. The door is open a little and he peeks inside, finding that the man's facing the door, fast asleep on his bed, a lamp shining across from him. Alex pushes the door open further, relieved when it doesn't squeak or pop, slipping inside as quietly as possible, relieved that the carpet is at least thick enough to cushion his steps. He pads softly over to the lamp and is about to flick it off so his friend can continue to sleep in peace when he pauses almost violently, his eyes falling on the surface of the table the lamp is on, swallowing harshly.
Alberto's scarf, folded carefully, lays there, Ricardo's red, white and green bowtie that Mike and Alex had packed for him atop it. Although almost three months had passed since everything had gone down, Ricardo had only unpacked a few things, Alex well aware based on how bare and impersonal the room remains. He tries not to mention it, understanding on some level that the man is probably having issues settling in to the new place... Not to mention even trusting in the length of his stay after all of the changes he's gone through professionally and personally in the last few months. Seeing just this bit of progress makes Alex feel a little better, glancing over his shoulder at his roommate with a faint smile before he reaches up and finally turns the lamp off. "Good night, Ricardo," he whispers before leaving the room, careful to make sure the door is still open a crack since that's how Ricardo seems to like it.