While Ricardo is off telling Mike what Alberto had overheard the week prior, the Mexican aristocrat is standing in catering, listening to the random chatter around him. He has no match for the evening, which is just as well, considering the people he had been stuck in the ring with the week prior. Thoughts are rattling around in his skull rapidly and it takes everything in him not to just blurt everything he's thinking out in a deluge of Spanish. When Ricardo eventually rejoins him, however, he forces a smile and claps him on the shoulder as they walk to a table, collecting a couple of sandwiches and bottled water before going to waste some time while the show proceeds on without them. "What did Miz say?" he finally asks, trying to shake his own wayward thoughts loose, turn his focus to something else.

"Ah, he seemed interested. I believe he's going to look into it more thoroughly later this week." Ricardo smiles at his former employer. "Gracias for helping, Alberto."

"De nada, mi amigo," he responds vaguely. He knows immediately the tone of his voice had inched too close to transparency as the younger man's eyebrows knead together. "So-"

"Eh, Alberto, are you ok?" he asks before Alberto can figure out what to ask. "You are... oddly distracted and... not quite yourself tonight. You're not coming down with something, are you?"

"Ah, no, mi amigo, I'm fine," he smiles at him. "There's nothing to worry about." Ricardo still looks uncertain and more than a little worried, but he drops the topic eventually, allowing them both to resume eating... until Batista's music echoes through the arena, Del Rio tensing as he looks over at the nearest monitor, immediately forgetting about the little that remains of his sandwich. He stands and turns for the exit, not a word spoken as he storms out past gorilla, interrupting Batista before he can even speak. How the techs get his music cued in time, he's not sure, momentarily impressed by them until he's actually in the ring with The Animal. No matter what he says, the returning superstar continues to stare at him in confusion, repeatedly acting like he has no idea why Alberto's out there, when he turns his back on him.

Del Rio sees red and immediately attacks, sending him to the mat and punching him again and again until- Dave gets to his feet and spinebusters him. Pain shoots up Alberto's ribcage and he only just manages to escape before Batista can successfully Batista Bomb him. The former World champion can only laugh at Batista's frustration as he refuses to return to the ring to finish what they had started here. His ribs still sore from the week prior, he returns gingerly backstage, hand pressed to his midsection. His smile immediately slips from his face and he growls at having no choice but to retreat in the face of Batista's sudden attack, the lingering soreness too much to risk worse injury. What most would see as cowardice is truly intelligence, but very few understand the art of fighting, or how to choose your battles. Another reason he hates most of the WWE Universe... only some understand his motives.

He's barely made it five steps when Ricardo walks up to him, brows furrowed as he stares at the unflinching grip Alberto has on his ribcage. "Alberto?" he asks lowly, reaching out for him. "Let me-" He's only just grazed his hand with his fingers when Del Rio springs into action, their past- when Alberto could let loose his anger on the younger man without fear of reprecussion or Ricardo taking it personally- plays itself out all over again.

"Déjame en paz!" he snarls, throwing his other arm out blindly. Time seems to stop as Ricardo lets out a faint gasp and skitters backwards, eyes wide and wounded.

"Lo si- lo siento," he mutters, falling back into old patterns... before their eyes lock and his abruptly clear, the strength he's slowly built back up since August returning to him once more and he swallows, shaking his head before turning sharply on his heel and walking away, his shoulders trembling slightly as he goes.

Alberto closes his eyes, realizing that he too had fallen back on old patterns- patterns he'd tried to shy away from since the tentative reformation of his friendship with the younger man... but tonight had been a bad set back. Between Batista and the various disappointments he's suffered since losing the World title... but none of it is Ricardo's fault, same as none of his failings when they did work together were the ring announcer's burden to carry. He stares at his hands, his earlier thoughts once more returning... strengthening in his determination that it may be the best course of action after all. He swallows down his self-loathing and walks in the direction that Ricardo had taken, keeping a look out for him if he should've veered off course from the locker rooms.

Which is just as well because otherwise he wouldn't have noticed the shadow outside of the arena exit, just visible in the window. Turning quickly, he races that way and shudders as the freezing night air brushes over his bare skin, ignoring it as he spots Ricardo walking away from the building, probably wanting to avoid the very thing Alberto is seeking. "RICARDO!" he yells out, his former ring announcer freezing at the sound of his voice. This is just enough for him to run forward and cut off his friend's forward motion, ducking his head to try to lock eyes with him once more. "Mi amigo," he grimaces, hesitantly reaching out and expecting to be swatted away- nothing less than what he deserves, to be sure, but Ricardo isn't like that and stands stock still as he carefully taps his jaw until he looks up, pain and anger brimming in his wet eyes. Alberto releases an agonized breath and shakes his head, looking away for a moment. "You should never feel the need to apologize to me, mi amigo. I can never begin to make up for all I have put you through, past, present,... and future."

Ricardo looks at him suspiciously, his lips opening and shutting as he tries and fails to find any word to describe the last few minutes. Finally he settles for, "What do you mean?"

Alberto rests his hands on Ricardo's shoulders and squeezes gently. "Mi amigo... I have not been happy... been fulfilled for quite awhile here. You know how difficult... it is for me to find any sort of true pleasure here." He licks his lips and looks away. "Except for the periods of time that I am World champion... and with Batista taking the Rumble spot, and my chances at being in the Elimination Chamber gone..." He licks his lips and looks back at him. "I am considering, once my contract runs out, not to renew."

If Ricardo had looked scared and angry before, he looks like he's been truly slapped now, his lips parting in shock as he stares up at his former employer. "But..."

"But what, mi amigo?"

He swallows and winces. "But if you do that... I'll be stuck here." He sounds young and hurt and Alberto aches for him, realizing what he means quickly. Whereas before, whenever Alberto had not been happy and considered leaving the business, returning to Mexico where he felt more comfortable, more accomplished, Ricardo had been his employee, and he would've left with his employer. But now, now they are separate entities in the eyes of WWE, Ricardo had received his own contract completely separate of Alberto's sometime after August the 5th, and...

"But you won't be alone, mi amigo," he mutters, running a hand through Ricardo's hair. "You'll have Miz and Riley, and 3MB... perhaps even Van Dam if he ever gets the nerve up to show his face again." But this does little to appease the younger man and Alberto sighs, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer. "You'll be alright, Ricardo. I have every confidence in you. I always have. I wouldn't leave if I thought you needed me, but I know you'll be fine..." When the younger man's grip on him tightens, his breath hitching roughly, he closes his eyes. "We'll always be mejor amigos, no matter where we're at. I could be in Mexico and you back in California, and everything would still be the same between us. Never doubt that. Besides, after all of the time I spent getting the house in Florida to my liking, do you think I would sell it to some perro to ruin with their American ways? Pst, no. And you would be welcome there any time," he smiles into Ricardo's hair. "After all, Miz and Morrison are still close, despite Morrison being gone from the business for years. It will be no different for us, I promise, mi amigo."

Ricardo seems to relax little by little after Alberto claims this, slowly nodding before pulling away from him, sheepishly scrubbing at his face. "I trust you, El Patron," he mutters, eyes lifting to a stop on his former employer's face as he takes a breath and once more tries what had started all of this, leaning forward and resting his hand on his midsection gingerly, searching for the rib injury that's causing him so much pain. When Del Rio doesn't try to slap him away this time, he continues to carefully prod around under his jacket, something that he had done many times in the past, looking his employer over for injuries when Alberto didn't trust the trainer to properly examine him. "I don't feel any breaks..." He releases a relieved breath. "What did the trainer say?"

Alberto smiles at him, making sure to hold very still throughout this little examination. "He says it's just bruised, if that, and I will be fine in time as long as I'm careful." Which is near impossible when he keeps getting spinebustered into the mat, but that is life as a WWE competitor. "Don't worry, mi amigo, I will be fine. But it is freezing out here, so let's go back inside, hm?" Ricardo nods and they walk side by side back into the building, Alberto watching him closely. It's obvious he's still upset, but yet... there's one more thing Alberto needs from him and he stops him with a careful hand on his arm. "Mi amigo."

"Si?" the younger man asks, turning to look at him. There's a look of dread in his deeply expressive eyes that leaves Alberto disgusted with himself all over, but there's no turning back now.

"I need one last thing from you," he says lowly. "I know I have no right to ask anything else of you after everything I have put you through recently, but I trust only you with this information... I haven't even told Sofia yet that I am once more considering leaving the WWE."

"So you want me to keep it to myself until you come to a decision," Ricardo surmises, his lips twisting uncomfortably. When it had just been them for all of those years against the WWE, no one else liking them to take the time to try to get to know either of them until that wild MizTV had led to the six-man match against 3MB, it had been ridiculously easy for the ring announcer to keep all of his employer's secrets- and more... but now...

"Si, mi amigo," he tells him. "I know it's a lot to ask, yet another burden you shouldn't have to carry, but I don't want it to be all over the internet within days just because the wrong person overheard."

Ricardo closes his eyes and nods. "Of course, Alberto. I promise, no one will hear it from me." Alberto's hand rests warmly in his hair, and he peeks up at him, forcing a sad, little smile as they continue back to the locker room to watch the rest of the show.

The rest of the week passes by quietly, Alberto defeating Zack Ryder within minutes on Main Event, and only having a short little interview segment on Smackdown about his issues with Batista. Once done, he meets back up with Ricardo and, since it's just the two of them, Mike in California trying yet again to sort out his problems with AJ, they leave for the hotel to try to get some sleep before their early flight back to Florida.

Not long after they arrive, the room they're splitting is quiet, dark, the two of them in their beds, Ricardo meditating while he waits for the relaxing pull of sleep, and Alberto checks his phone one last time. Starting to sink, the ring announcer gives up on focusing on his breathing and turns towards his former employer and stares at him in the faint glow of his mobile web browser, a painful smile twitching at his lips. "I'm going to miss this," he mutters, almost hoping that Alberto wouldn't have heard him...

But it's clear that he did as he rolls over to face Ricardo's bed, immediately forgetting his phone. "Mi amigo?" he whispers back.

"Traveling with you," he explains after a long moment of thought. "Sharing hotel rooms... normalcy. It was one thing after August..." His hands tighten around the bedding as he tries to speak without losing it, tears forming in his eyes yet again. "I knew you were still nearby, even if I thought you hated me. But now... now you'll really be gone, and..."

Alberto shakes his head and stands up, kneeling down next to Ricardo's bed so they're eye to eye. "Shhh," he tells him. "I haven't made a decision but even if I do leave the company, if you ever need me, I'll just be a call away. Mi amigo, I'll always be there for you, whatever may come. Never doubt that." He smiles as Ricardo stares up at him, eyes still welling with fresh tears. "Whether my time left in this business is weeks or years, there is no such time limit on our friendship. Now come, close your eyes, get some sleep. Things will be alright, I promise you." He stays by the bed until Ricardo, following his instructions, slowly relaxes, his lips parting as he starts to drift. When he jerks awake a few minutes later, eyes immediately searching him out even though he hasn't moved an inch, Alberto leans closer and stares at him. "I'm still here, mi amigo. Go to sleep."

Ricardo sighs and snuggles into his bedding, brows still furrowed pensively. "Muchas gracias, Alberto," he only just mutters before losing once more to the pull of sleep.

"De nada, mi amigo," Alberto whispers, relieved when he falls into a deep, peaceful sleep and stays there. Even so, the Mexican aristocrat stays where he's at, ignoring his own exhaustion and discomfort until he's certain that Ricardo will be alright, at least for tonight.