The locker room is unusually quiet today. The tension that's been lurking under the surface since Team Raw lost to Team Smackdown eight days ago has evolved into... this. A sort of dejected, morose silence that lingers over everything.

Oddly enough, the usually obnoxiously loud Miz appears to be affected the most after being unable to get an advantage over Big Show again tonight, barely surviving due to a disqualification, quietly picking at his fingernail with an expression-less look on his face. Alex Riley sits near him, looking everywhere but at his mentor, as if afraid to interrupt his private ruminations. John Morrison watches all of it while sitting across from them. He catches himself thinking inanely that the three of them are sitting in a strange triangle shape and sighs, scrubbing at his eyes. I'm losing it, he thinks, squinting an eye open to find Miz staring at him. "What?"

"What?" Miz echoes, looking away. His blue eyes are vacant and almost lifeless; Morrison would be lying if he didn't say he was a little worried by now.

Over the past week, Miz has focused on blaming the rest of Team Raw for their loss and completely ignoring the tag belts after ranting about it on Monday night but something's changed in the last few hours. Morrison's starting to think he's shifted the blame onto himself but that makes little to no sense, given Miz's usually self-assured attitude where little seems to bother him. It's obvious by Alex Riley's subdued attitude that he's noticed the change as well.

There had also been rumors going around that Miz is going to challenge Rey Mysterio tonight but looking at him now, John's not sure why that even started making the rounds through the locker room. Miz doesn't seem like he's willing to move from where he's been sitting on the bench for almost a half an hour, even as the other guys keep up a constant stream of talk and motion, getting ready for their own matches or preparing to leave.

After a few more minutes, he leans forward and smacks Miz on the knee, attracting both his and Alex's attention. "Come on, we're getting out of here."

Mike looks like he's about to argue but John doesn't wait to hear what feeble excuse he has for staying, pulling the door open and raising an eyebrow at him. Miz's lips thin as he looks pointedly at Alex and reluctantly brushes past him, leaving the room quietly.

John rolls his eyebrows towards the ceiling and sighs, waiting as Alex rushes after him. He closes the door with a click behind him, walking quickly to join the two. Mike doesn't bother looking over at him as he catches up with them, obviously displeased with this proceeding.

It's a cool evening but not too bad for early November as they walk outside, almost melting into the shadows covering the parking lot reserved for wrestlers and the crew in the back of the building. Morrison takes in a deep breath, sighing as his skin tingles from the chill.

"What are we doing out here?" Miz's voice cuts through the gloom, causing Morrison to jerk a bit.

He talks, he thinks with an amused sneer. And a whole sentence too! After a period of only hearing one word answers or grunts from the man, it's a marked improvement. "Getting away from the locker room," is his answer as he settles down on an abandoned trunk left behind by some tech too lazy to carry it inside with the rest of the supplies.

"Oh please," Mike mutters. "Come on, Alex..." He looks pointedly over at John. "We can do that just as easily inside, where it's not freezing out...side." His voice fades away as he spots Alex sitting on the ground near a light pole, staring up at the stars overhead. "Uh! You're taking his side, Riley? Seriously? ... Seriously?"

"Who said there's sides, Mike? Just sit down and relax already," Morrison comments easily, shifting so he's stretched out across the trunk, absorbing the soft breeze that's tickling against his skin. It's a quiet night, despite the muted vibrations of noise from inside the arena behind them. One of Miz's biggest problems is he's constantly in motion, rarely takes a minute just to be. It was obvious back when they first tag teamed but since reuniting, John's noticed he's only gotten worse about it in the year and a half they spent angry at each other.

"I don't want to," he mumbles petulantly but joins Morrison anyway, sitting on the very edge of the trunk as if preparing to bolt at any moment. He's still hideously tense, his shoulders a rigid line as he looks out at the dusk surrounding them, but it's a start.

John rolls onto his back as his bad knee protests his original position, the steadily cooling temperatures not helping his discomfort much. He knows that this winter will be annoying, especially whenever WWE goes to the northern states, because his knee always reflects the change in weather. He shakes the slightly depressing thoughts from his mind, turning his attention back to Mike. "Why didn't you say anything when the Harts wrestled Slater and Gabriel earlier?" It doesn't really matter if he mentions it now, considering his tag partner seems as tense as he was five minutes ago, so he doesn't feel bad when Miz twitches.

"There was no point in mentioning it."

"Why not?" John blinks as Miz shifts a bit away from him and stretches out on the trunk too, pillowing his head with his arms as he looks up blankly at the dark sky.

"I still am not sure what you did to get us the first tag title shot at Night of Champions," he mumbles. "Obviously it was something big if you wouldn't even tell me. Now, with Nexus holding them, and apparently having the email GM in their pocket... well, hell, John. What chance do we honestly have? The email GM has a bias against me, that was determined almost as soon as I won the Money in the Bank briefcase... and I'm guessing that since you don't have any more favors you can cash in, we're just a little bit screwed."

"We have the rematch clause though," John says, almost feeling naive as Miz turns his head to look at him, his face shadowed too much to get a good glimpse of his expression.

"What good's a rematch clause when Nexus is just going to keep cheating or working the numbers game to their advantage?"

Morrison wants to say something, he really does, struggles to think of something- anything- to say that will strengthen Miz for the road ahead, but nothing comes to him.

"McIntyre and Rhodes split up," Mike speaks up after a few moments, surprising John once more.

"You've been watching Smackdown again?" he asks, trying not to sound as mocking as he feels. Miz's dislike of the blue brand is something well documented.

He huffs a little before turning onto his side to look at John's profile through the darkness. "It seemed so simple, you know? One minute they were talking about going after Nexus to get the belts, and the next, declaring that they'd be better off without the other. Then they turned and walked away without a backwards glance."

John weighs Miz's words and compares his description to 2009, when there was a disqualification loss, a sobering hug goodbye and then an attack that left him writhing on the mat, his neck and stomach pain secondary to the turmoil in his soul. He shakes his head and shrugs. "Well, they didn't have a very long partnership." His voice sounds feeble even to him but his words are no less true. The longer the history, the deeper the emotions, the harsher the reaction when an inevitable breakdown of an alliance happens. It doesn't surprise him that Rhodes and McIntyre's split was as clinical as it sounds.

"True," Miz mumbles, obviously still deep in thought about it all.

They sit in silence for awhile longer, obviously pondering what or how it'll be when they eventually split again, knowing that it's inevitable. No teams survive in WWE forever, although there are some that fall apart and reform every now and again for this reason or that- DX being a prime example. Morrison is trying to figure out how to form a question that he's been pondering for a couple weeks, since The Path, when Miz speaks again, voice quiet as if he's reluctant to be heard.

"Do ya think we could... not hate each other, even if ... this doesn't work out?"

Surprised, John sits up so he can look at Miz a little clearer. His question, not worded exactly the same but close enough, coming from the lips of the man who inspired the months of hatred between them in the first place, amazes him. We really have changed, he thinks with a bemused smile. It takes a few moments for him to realize that Miz is still waiting for an answer. "I think there's a good chance, yeah," he finally mumbles, settling back against the trunk to examine the moon quietly.

The soft sounds of their breathing is interrupted by two simultaneous things- Alex scrambling up, a squirrel chattering angrily at him from its position half way down the light pole, and Miz's voice, regaining some of its rambuctious pitch. "So since you've taken it upon yourself to save WWE's damsels in distress lately, how long before you start swooping in and rescuing Zack Ryder too?"

Morrison's huff is his answer, along with almost getting pushed off the side of the trunk.

"Hey, it was just an honest question!" he defends himself, trying and failing at holding in his chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah. We better go inside before I have to save Riley from the squirrel of doom," John comments inanely as the chattering grows louder, Alex's frenzied movements becoming almost desperate.

"Oh God." As he stands up to see what exactly is going on, Miz mumbles something about the rookies he's stuck with. John just grins.