"Ricardo!" Alberto calls out, tense, as he storms into the house, frowning at the silence. "Ricardo, where are you-" He devolves into mumbles of Spanish as he takes off his jacket and throws it onto the couch, looking up as Sofia walks into the room. "Where is he?"

She blinks and shakes her head. "I believe he is out getting more groceries for the next few days."

Alberto freezes and frowns at her, grimacing as he sits down. "Fine," he mutters, tenting his fingers as he waits.

"Is there anything I can do for you, senor?"

"No, gracias, Sofia." He crosses his arms against his chest and sighs. He had hired the younger man to be his ring announcer when he'd started in the WWE almost a year ago, but it had somehow evolved since Big Show had gotten his hands on him, leaving him out of action for almost a month. Alberto had never verbalized how responsible he felt for what he'd gone through, instead doing what he does best, paid him back by allowing him stay in his house while he recovered, covering his finances for the duration of his time off. How, exactly, it had shifted into Ricardo moving in permanently, he's not sure, but it had. The younger man's constant presence had caused his responsibilities to multiply, doing all that Alberto required of him on the road and taking over some of Sofia's duties so she wasn't spread so thin when they were in Florida. Which seemed to be a fine arrangement, Ricardo not minding it.

Except that now things are different. More and more, Del Rio realizes he wants to just be... nicer to the younger man, take down his walls and trust him fully with more than just his errands and other things. Which freaks him out more than anything else ever has. Even Sofia, with her subtle reassurances and steadfast loyalty, hasn't ever gotten under his skin like this, perhaps because he's never traveled with her. Alberto had never really had friends, learning young that most people only hang around because they want his money or the things he can provide them, and he's not interested in starting now, so used to his solitude by now that he sees no point in changing it. But yet...

His thoughts are interrupted when the front door shuts quietly, faint footsteps padding towards the kitchen, Ricardo's voice filtering into the living room, softly spoken Spanish between him and Sofia making Alberto smile despite himself. Shaking his head violently, he stares straight ahead. "Ricardo!" he snaps, losing patience in waiting for the younger man to finish in the other room.

The conversation stops sharply and Ricardo peeks his head in, eyes wide. "Si, El Patron? Lo siento, I didn't know you were home, is there something you needed?"

Alberto stands up and stalks towards him, stabbing his cell phone into his chest until Ricardo clutches it, staring up at him. "Si, of course there is something I needed, else I wouldn't have called for you," he huffs. "The garage called me. They have delivered the wrong car for Raw. I need this fixed now." He stares down at the ring announcer until he swallows and nods, already dialing the number.

"Ay, si, alright. It must've been the new hire, he always messes up the paperwork..." He looks up uncertainly, listening to the ringing on the other side. "It'll be fixed within the hour, lo siento."

"Gracias," he mutters, low enough that he suspects Ricardo doesn't hear it, already leaving the room to let the car delivery service have it on behalf of his employer. Alberto sighs and grimaces, making sure not to look over at Sofia as he walks past the kitchen to rest in his bedroom until dinner is ready.

Time passes. Alberto continues to keep his distance, and Ricardo vows to keep his head down and do his work, not wanting to disappoint Alberto after all he'd done for him, especially since his injuries. Except that the other superstars, disgusted and annoyed by Del Rio's actions, seem to enjoy taking it out on him at every opportunity. He tries to stay close to his employer, especially when at an arena, but sometimes it's just impossible, especially when it's clear the older man wants some time alone.

On one of these times, he's wandering the hallway, frowning as the November chill seeps into the halls. He's a California boy, he hates the cold. Moving to Florida when the opportunity to be Del Rio's ring announcer hadn't broke him of it, and he wishes desperately they were there now. He's about to turn back around and return to catering when his phone beeps. He pulls it out of his slacks pocket automatically and stares down at the screen, frowning.

Ricardo, I took the wrong scarf from the car earlier. Collect the black one from the trunk and bring it to me now.

Ricardo grimaces, not wanting to go out in this weather, but not having a choice. Chuffing his arms, he walks outside and thinks nothing of it when the door clicks shut behind him... until there's another, louder click that can only be one thing. He closes his eyes in disbelief, grabbing for the handle and pulling on it with all of his strength. It doesn't give and he groans loudly. "No, no... come on."

It's late enough that all of the competitors have arrived, but not so late that the event's about to start, so he's stuck out here until he can think of what to do. There's the public entrance but the last thing he wants to do is be heckled by fans... Grimacing, he stares at his phone, pondering texting Alberto. But he had seemed so insistent that he not be bothered, Ricardo can't bring himself to do that either.

Stuck unsure of what to do, surrounded by options that seem less appealing than the last, he starts to notice the chill, running his hands up and down his arms. His tux isn't thick enough to keep him warm, and before long his teeth are chattering. He grimaces, starting to think he may have to swallow his pride and either call his employer or just give up and walk all the way around the building and find the main entrance, then ignore fans as he tries to make his way backstage, but at least he'd be warm... Except that now he's so cold, he's not sure he can walk that long, much less think straight long enough to get inside.

He closes his eyes and hisses, stumbling a bit and hitting the wall, grunting. "Por favor, help," he mutters, time slipping away as he drops down the wall, breathing echoing heavily in his ears. "El Patron..." He groans and forces his eyes open, staring ahead blankly as his trembling fingers brush against his cell phone case, looking down at it. "Hmm..."
-

Alberto frowns when he glances at a clock and realizes just how much time has passed since he'd texted Ricardo. The event is about to start, and he wants to finish getting ready for his match. Another text goes ignored and he goes from annoyed to angry to worried in a rapid amount of time. Eyes narrowed, he leaves his locker room and wanders the halls, keeping an eye- or ear- out for the younger man, any kind of commotion... but for a building just prior to an event, things are calm, controlled chaos.

This makes him even more annoyed and he glares at anyone he passes, wondering which of them may know what's going on with Ricardo, that he's not responding to Alberto's texts or calls. Finally he decides to go to the car, pausing when he finds that the door is locked, a creeping suspicious feeling moving down his spine. He storms outside, glaring towards where he had parked upon arriving. There's no sign of Ricardo and he huffs, walking towards there when... he trips and nearly hits the ground, only catching himself at the last moment.

Turning to yell at whoever was the cause, he stops short when he realizes- the thing in his way was the leg of his sprawled out ring announcer, Alberto quickly dropping to his knees in front of him. "Ricardo? Ricardo?" He cups his face, trying to get him to look at him. He's startled by just how cold he is, knowing that he's already been out here too long so he pulls him up and supports him back into the building, once more glaring at everyone he passes and ignoring the trainer's office completely as he leads him into his locker room, the warmth of the arena slowly helping him to revive.

"Sit, sit," Del Rio tells him, guiding him onto the nearest couch. He wanders away briefly, pouring a warm mug of coffee for him, resting it in his hands and not letting go until he thinks Ricardo is alert enough to hold onto it.

"Gracias," he says wearily, sipping with a soft wince as the sharp, warm taste of coffee glides over his tastebuds. "Lo siento, El Patron, I forgot to get your scarf..."

"Don't worry about it," Alberto says tensely, sitting down next to him. "Ricardo, why didn't you text me? I would've come let you back in..."

Ricardo glances at him before staring back down at his hands. "I just... I didn't want to bother you, I know that... you wanted to be left alone before the event."

Alberto stares at him intensely, disbelieving that his attitude had backfired so thoroughly. Yes, he had wanted to keep space between himself and Ricardo, still not trusting in friendships or his own ability to keep friends after so many years of having only interchangeable staff members in his world. But he had known for awhile that Ricardo was different, neither interchangeable or just a mere staff member to him. Not anymore. The flood of emotions he had felt, all of the thoughts running through his mind when he'd gone outside and found him down on the ground had overwhelmed everything else. "Lo siento," he mutters. "I shouldn't have... made you feel like you couldn't turn to me when you really needed help." It's his turn to stare at his hands while Ricardo gapes at him. "We are clearly all each other have in this business, and I shouldn't return your loyalty with ignoring you and underestimating the friendship that's been growing between us for awhile."

Ricardo stares over at him, still shivering slightly as he holds his forgotten coffee. He looks young and vulnerable as he swallows dryly. "Friendship, El Patron?"

Alberto nods grimly. "I have never had many true friends, so I'm not sure what to do with one. My attempts of putting distance between us except for professional reasons haven't worked, however. I have been missing our conversations, how we could spend hours mocking the other perros."

Ricardo smiles slightly, staring down at the liquid rippling in his mug due to his lingering shudders. "I miss those conversations as well, El Patron."

Alberto nods, holding his hand out. "What do you say, then? We're amigos?"

Ricardo stares at his fingers for a long moment, it becoming clear when Del Rio begins to take his silence for something bad, his eyes narrowing somewhere between anger and disappointment, when Ricardo clears his throat. "I've considered you mi amigo for a good deal of time already, but si, we are amigos," he agrees, gripping his hand and shaking it.

Alberto grins down at him, mind already working overtime to try to figure out who had targetted his ring announcer in such a cruel fashion. But for now, his only intention is getting Ricardo warmed up, take him home after Alberto's upcoming match so Sofia can ease him back to health with her good cooking and gentle presence, and figure out this new-found friend moniker. "If you are up for it, let's go. We have much to accomplish."

"Si, El Patron," he nods, getting back to his feet and resuming his normal pre-match rituals to help Del Rio look his best.

He's barely gripped Alberto's scattered wrestling gear when an arm reaches out and snags him, Alberto turning him to face his direction. "Muchas gracias, Ricardo. For everything, none of which is possible without you... mi amigo."

Ricardo flushes, fluttered and unsure how to respond, when Alberto pats his arm. "D- de nada," he whispers, eyes still wide in disbelief at everything that's been going on lately. "Mi amigo," he tries the words out on his tongue, almost cringing away in certain that Alberto will say or do something in response to his not saying El Patron for the first time in weeks since discussing things with him.

Alberto only smiles at him, a pleasant gleam to his dark eyes, and Ricardo thus relaxes as well, a smile of his own growing on his pale lips.