The Miz sighs, brushing a hand against his title belt thoughtfully. Two weeks to the Royal Rumble, where not only does he have to wrestle Randy Orton again, he has to witness his potential Wrestlemania opponent get decided. He has little doubt that he can hold onto the belt up to that point, but it doesn't stop the possibilities from running through his mind.
After all, a year ago he's sure no one would've said in January 2011, Mike "The Miz" Mizanin would be WWE champion. It is the WWE and anything can happen. He scrubs a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself, before glancing over. Alex is sitting at the end of the opposing bench, reading through the WWE Magazine curiously.
Interrupting Cena's segment earlier in the evening had mostly been to give himself something to do, and partially just to shut the man up. He's not surprised by Cena's words, far from it, but to think that Orton and Cena deserve another Wrestlemania main event after all the work he's done this year grates at him and leaves him seething. He'd take a thousand more screwy rulings from the anonymous GM over something like that happening.
"Hey," Alex says a little later, breaking into his serious thoughts as he stands up.
"What?" he asks blandly, returning to picking at the straps of his belt.
"Is what you said here true?" He drops the magazine down next to Miz and turns to examine the monitor as Miz skims the article about first title runs, tilting his head as he remembers giving the quote about JBL and Morrison's fight directly after their first tag title win.
"Yeah. Why?"
Alex shrugs, glancing over at Miz. "Just never thought Morrison had something like that in him, is all," he mumbles. Said superstar's match against Daniel Bryan continues on behind them as Mike considers this.
"It's always the quiet ones, y'know?" He chuckles mirthlessly before leaning over slightly to peer at the TV. "He always stood up for the things we did- whether as singles competitors or as a team. I was willing to take criticism, try to be better, but he was proud of every victory, no matter what anyone had to say afterwards. Not that he doesn't work to get better, it's just... he felt the need to defend every achievement, I guess. Especially because a lot of people just didn't take me seriously. Hell, some still don't." He licks his lips anxiously before peering up at A-Ri, wondering how his next thought will be received. "Like the road to me winning the WWE title... a lot of it was because of him. Of course it was my victory, I achieved it, but... he's the one who made sure it all worked out, especially when the Email GM really started with all of his crap. I'm not going to lie, I lost hope a few times." His gaze grows distant as he remembers those hard weeks of being able to do little more than wait. "But Morrison kept working at it, figuring out ways for this to all work out, for us to win the tag titles no matter what the Email GM did."
Alex listens quietly, nodding here and there. He runs a hand over the top of his briefcase, lips twisting thoughtfully. "So now?" he asks hesitantly.
"Now," Miz responds, standing up upon seeing Morrison's match come to an end. "We go pay Orton a visit."
After beating down Orton and tossing The King around a bit, Miz feels more secure about the Royal Rumble so it's with a pleased smirk that he and Alex head for the catering table to get some water. Miz sighs and hovers around the table as Alex drifts away to also grab some cookies from the nearby platter, taking his time with his selection.
"That was some show you put on just now," he hears from a few feet away.
"Guess the trainer doesn't get the pleasure of your company tonight, Morrison?" he asks, not even needing to turn around to see who was talking. John joins him, watching with a blank look on his face as Alex carefully checks over each cookie before adding them to the rapidly growing pile in his hand.
"Apparently not," he says with a shrug. "But really, interrupting Cena... beating Orton down... all on the same night... looks like someone's trying to get themselves placed in a triple threat match."
Miz rolls his eyes. "Hardly, John. It's called making a statement."
"Oh, that's what we're calling it now?"
"Yeah," he mumbles, turning to watch as Alex still hasn't finished picking at the desserts.
"How many cookies does one man need?" Morrison asks after a few minutes more of this, glancing over at Miz.
"Ugh," Miz sighs as John chuckles.