The first thing John Morrison hears as soon as he enters the arena is that he's been put in a match with Alex Riley. He blinks at the referee who's been appointed to relaying the information and shrugs with a nod. "Thanks," he says before continuing on down to the locker room. He and Alex have never entirely gotten along, even when he and Miz were tag teaming regularly, choosing instead to keep their distance as best as they could, unless it was special circumstances. Now with the Email GM not letting up on any of them, it doesn't surprise him that they'd be put into a match together.
His thoughts are derailed as he walks by Miz's locker room to find the door ajar just enough that he hears his name. Curiosity kills the cat, he reminds himself even as he freezes outside of the door and listens to Miz going on about how much better he is than John and more of the usual rambling that he grew tired of years ago. He barely has a second to think before he finds himself inside Miz's locker room, mocking both men before suggesting an added stipulation to his and A-Ri's match- if he wins, he gets to choose the time and stipulation of his and Miz's heavyweight title match, but if Alex wins, he forfeits his #1 contendership.
It's a crapshoot- he doesn't even know if the Email GM will accept his last minute suggestions- but somehow it all goes through to Morrison's liking, despite Miz's attempts to cause him to lose. It's a split second revelation- he could wait until the Royal Rumble and wrestle for the WWE title there, but he's so far beyond sick and tired of the tension that's been a counterpart of his career since late July that he doesn't bat an eye as he relays to Jerry his decision: Next week, in a falls count anywhere match.
He returns to the back and sighs as some of the weight falls off his shoulders- now that he knows the how and when, things just seem easier to handle. He wanders the halls for awhile as the usual post-match adrenaline drains from him and only stops when he realizes that Miz and The King's match is going on currently. He watches for awhile distastefully as Miz and Alex both work over the older man, reminded somewhat of Santino constantly getting beat down by Sheamus. Miz's words from the locker room earlier still ringing in his ears, he runs out to the ring and attacks Miz when the ref isn't looking- How do you like when it happens to you?-, enabling Jerry to win via countout.
All actions have consequences, however, and it's not until after the fact that he learns that Miz went after Jerry again later in the show. Of course, the one time I'm not near a monitor, he thinks with a grimace as he leaves the trainer's room. Jerry is a bit achy and not in the greatest of moods but all in all, he'll be ok with some rest. He shrugs on his winter coat as he hoists his duffel bag higher up on his arm before heading for the exit leading to the parking lot. I wonder how many hours it'll take to get out of this mess, he's thinking when he spots a familiar form leaning against the wall next to the door. Oh, of course. Despite everything that's happened the last few hours, he can't keep from acknowledging his former tag partner. "Waiting for your chauffer?" he cracks, still a few feet away as Miz jerks and turns to stare at him.
"I guess you're waiting for your chaperone?" he volleys back, easing away from the cold wall to face Morrison.
They stare at each other for a bit, the tension still thick between them as Miz drags his hands out of his coat pockets, standing almost defensively. "You do realize you versus Alex should've ended in a disqualification, right?" Morrison doesn't react as Miz looks aggravated. "The ref was looking right my way when I tripped you up," he continues, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "But instead of calling it, he continued it and ejected me from ringside."
John frowns as he watches Miz's frenzied movements. "What does it matter? By DQ, by pinfall, it would've ended the same way. Right?"
"Don't you dare taunt me for being paranoid but I can't help but think the Email GM told the ref not to stop the match until a three-count, no matter what happened. Which makes me wonder what if Alex had gotten his crap together and came close to winning? What would the ref have done then?"
"Not that it would've happened," Morrison offers with a smirk before sobering up, "but the ref probably would've done his job. Not every little weird occurrence is the GM doing something to screw with you." He holds his hands up as Miz shoots him a look, as if saying You have been around the last six months, right? "I know this hasn't been the title run of your dreams but you shouldn't let the GM get to you like this. It's just letting him succeed."
He huffs, their conversation interrupted as Tyson Kidd and his new bodyguard walks past them and slams through the exit doors, letting in gusts of cold air. More snow drops onto the floor around their feet as the door slides shut once more and Mike shakes his head. "I ever mention I hate this weather?"
"Once... or twice... maybe a thousand," John comments, tempted to pick up some of the snow and pour it down Miz's hair. If not for the already miserable look on his face, that is. "While we're discussing all of this, why did you attack Jerry again? Speaking of people just doing their jobs..."
Miz stands straighter as he looks once more at him. "I couldn't find you," he shrugs. "Besides, it was a little funny to interrupt the Email GM for once."
"I can imagine." Before he can say anything else, a horn honks from outside. He raises an eyebrow. "That your ride?"
Miz reluctantly walks towards the chilly door and peeks out, nodding. "Took Riley long enough," he grouses as he dons his gloves, hat and scarf before zipping his coat up as far as it will go.
"Do you need me to roll you out to the car? Not sure you can walk like that without running into anything," Morrison offers with a grin as he takes a good look at his bundled up former tag partner.
"Shut up," he mumbles, voice muffled by the layers of clothes covering almost every bare inch of his skin.
He shakes his head in slight amusement, watching as Miz walks awkwardly to the car and gets in. I'll be glad when next week is over, he thinks, resting his forehead against the cool metal door for a moment before, too, heading out towards his car.
