Miz paces around the locker room, grumbling to himself as he ignores everyone around him. He generally brushes off nervousness and laughs in the face of uncertainty but with Daniel Bryan getting the upper hand today and beating Alex Riley, he is becoming a little worried that accepting Bryan's challenge on top of everything else going on is just a little too much, even for him. But that very thought means that Morrison was correct for worrying last week so he stuffs it down and scrubs at his face, finally tiring of pacing. On top of that, Morrison hasn't heard from Teddy about their chance at the tag titles. Of course no match has been announced as of yet, so that's something, but still... He feels like things are going off-track badly and he's so frustrated, he can't think straight long enough to even figure out how to fix the simplest of his problems.
He's barely sat down when John sits across from him and, when he doesn't even look up, begins to repeatedly kick his boots against the bench's legs to annoy him. Thud... thud... thud. After awhile of this, he looks up with a glower. "Stop that."
John blinks as if surprised, as if they've never had this conversation before. "What? Is there a problem, Miz? Is it your hernia?"
Mike huffs, glaring harder at his tag partner as snickers and mocking whispers come from the guys around them. "Shut up, Morrison."
He shrugs, a smirk forming on his face. "Cranky, cranky." All in all, he doesn't seem to be too bothered by it.
"Is there something you want?" he finally asks dully when John is still staring at him a few moments later.
He looks a little weird, almost unsettled, as Mike looks up and their eyes lock. After an awkward stare down, he eventually looks away. "Not really," he says quietly. "I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah, whatever," Miz mutters as he gets up and wanders off, not in a good enough mood to figure out what exactly's going on with Morrison.
He does happen to be watching later on as Morrison faces off against Sheamus after showing off his parkour training. He's seen it a time or two before in their original run as a tag team but had forgotten just how dizzying it looked. He shakes his head- I'll keep with the basic stuff, thank you very much. John actually does well against Sheamus, it almost surprises Miz, but then Jericho comes out. One steel chair shot and it's all over.
That one chair shot is all that happens- Jericho takes the chair and goes quietly to the ring as Miz blinks back to awareness, discovering he's on his feet, as if he's about to run out and do something should Jericho continue beating down Morrison. When all that's shown is Jericho afterwards, Miz slowly walks to the trainer's. He's seen Morrison taken out before- heck since their tag team's reformed even- but this felt... different. This wasn't just worry about what effect it'd have on their chances at getting the titles and how long he'd have to wait to cash in his briefcase if John should get injured.
This was genuine worry for his former friend.
Shaken and a little annoyed by this realization, he stands outside of the trainer's room and closes his eyes, shaking his head. Chance had brought them back together a few months ago and what should've been a simple road to the tag team championships had morphed into something else... something personal. Something he never necessarily wanted to feel again, not after how his alliances with Big Show and Chris Jericho himself had fallen apart. Tag teams just weren't for him; required too much, caused too much drama and bad blood in a business where most people were "every man for himself" types anyway. He had kept Alex Riley at a distance and thought he was breaking himself of the tag team mindset perfectly when this whole Morrison nonsense began anew.
He's about to give up and leave, his thoughts too jumbled and all over the place to face Morrison, when the door opens abruptly, of all people, Alex Riley himself standing in front of him, shifting his arm around carefully from the affects of Bryan's LeBell Lock. "Oh, Miz," he says in surprise. "You here to see me?"
He's frozen, staring inside the room as the trainer picks and prods at Morrison's back, his tag partner wincing every few seconds. He gapes for a second before shaking his head, once more focusing on Alex. "Uh, no. I need to talk to Morrison," he says in a monotone.
Alex looks even more startled as Miz brushes past him. "Uh. Yeah, ok. I'll catch up with you later."
"Sure," he says in a disinterested fashion as he echoes Morrison's earlier actions and sits across from him, waiting for the trainer to finish his examination.
"Miz?" Morrison greets him questioningly. "What are you doing?"
"I wanted to know what you were going to say earlier," he says calmly, his hands resting on his thighs as he watches Morrison cringe once more as the trainer pokes a sensitive spot.
"Uh," he says, breathing through his nose as finally the trainer turns away and grips the usual bag of ice, pressing it against his spine. He hisses but leans into it, anticipating the relief that would soon follow.
"No broken ribs for once," the trainer comments, thoughtlessly cutting into their barely started conversation. "It's gonna be sore and maybe a little bruised, take it easy for awhile and you should be fine. If you feel sick or strange at all, come back to me right away."
"Yeah, thanks," John responds before turning his attention back to Miz. His very posture screams hesitancy and Mike isn't sure if it's because of his back or just... what, but it unnerves him so he stiffens instinctively when Morrison begins to speak. "I just wanted to tell you earlier- you've proven yourself as a capable singles competitor and I know you have Alex Riley in your corner now but... if you need anything else on Sunday, well, I'll be around."
It sounds lame. Awkward. Maybe a little forced. Even so, it's so completely Morrison that Mike can't help but smile a little- an expression he quickly shifts into a smirk. "Aw, is Johnny worried about me?" he mocks.
In response, Morrison rolls his eyes. "As if. I'd rather you not screw up and lose the US title- the sooner we win the tag belts and you can cash in the briefcase, the sooner I can focus on my own goals."
Miz snorts. "You have goals?" Even so, he feels a bit of gratitude at Morrison's words. This may be a cutthroat business but he can't help but feel a little better with people watching his back. "On this feel good note," he says dryly, standing up. "I have things to do, people to annoy. See you at the rental car?" They're still traveling together and with each passing week, it becomes less and less awkward, almost natural.
"Yep, see ya." As soon as Miz is gone, Morrison's expression turns solemn and he grabs the cell phone that's been mocking him for as long as Miz has been talking to him. He dials a by-now familiar number and closes his eyes, aimlessly counting each ring. When it hits voicemail, he lets out a deep huff. "Hey, Teddy, I know you're busy and everything but you've not contacted us at all about what we discussed a couple weeks ago- about the tag belts? With Night of Champions this Sunday, well... I guess you were just appeasing me when you said you'd see what you could do?" His face starts to darken with pent up aggravation and he takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Listen, I don't want to annoy you about this but I was hoping you'd be able to help... so call me back, alright?"
He snaps the phone shut and rubs his forehead. It's going to be a long week.