Boston. Their first sight of America in almost two weeks and it had to be John Cena's hometown. Morrison wonders what Mike thinks of that, leaning back against the locker room bench. Since winning the match against Dolph Ziggler last week, he had spent the time between various house shows across Europe planning his next move. As much as he's amused by and even likes Zack Ryder, there's no time for such things in a business like this, if you want to get anywhere. So the short promo he shoots for Z!TLIS, hijacking Scott Stanford long enough to make the commentator film it on Zack's pilfered camera, feels right, even though he has no honest intention of going after the Internet championship. No, he has his eyes on a much bigger, better prize- something he thinks may help put his career back on track even more than the initial victory had. The Z!TLIS promo is just there to show Zack that in the scheme of things, Morrison isn't about to go down without a fight, even though they both have legitimate claims for title opportunities.
"Hey," Alex greets him while he's considering all of this, in the process of tying his shoes up tight. Neither have matches that night, for the usual lame reasons, but Morrison thinks if he sees an opportunity, he may make his presence felt during Dolph's match against Mason Ryan later on. "How's it going?"
The trio hadn't seen much of each other since that night at the bar, Miz's words lingering in the air for long afterwards. "It's goin'. Isn't it great, having the Rock back?" he asks, somewhat sarcastically.
Alex smiles mirthlessly, still dressed in his street clothes. With no matches and no real reason to get involved in the show, he doesn't see the need of getting his ring gear out. "Yeah, you could say that." They sit in silence for awhile, half-listening to the Cole challenge on the TV, John still digging through his bag. "So..."
John glances over. "Yeah?"
"What Mike said last week..."
"What about it?"
"Do you think it's even possible? I mean, honestly?" The younger man grimaces, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I know I should've told you both about my... issues, but it just didn't seem that important."
"Well, it might not have to you, but it definitely would've to Mike. To me too," he says awkwardly. "We were all going through crap, but we would've liked to know. You didn't need to be helping me out in Mexico when you were hurting, you know?"
Alex huffs a breath and shrugs. "It just didn't seem that bad, and when I got the MRI back, I knew I was going to be fine, and it was too late to change things anyway. I didn't do it maliciously."
"Of course you didn't, Alex. That's not the problem. If we hadn't known and did something that caused you to be shelved longer, well. We really would've kicked your ass once you were better, then." John smirks as Alex releases a soft chuckle. "You know how Mike gets, considering how much of an egotistical bastard he can be, he's an expert at the mother hen thing. It just happens that you and I are equal experts at getting our asses handed to us on a near weekly basis. Well, when we actually have matches, that is."
Alex laughs. "Yeah... I know."
Their conversation dwindles as the show carries on, Morrison's attention drawn completely in by Dolph vs Mason. "Hey, I'll see you later, I'm gonna... see if I can..." Alex nods, unsurprised, as the other man leaves without completing his sentence, walking purposely towards the gorilla position.
He's almost there when someone turns a corner and runs right into him, something warm clinging to his shirt, making it stick to his chest. "Crap!" he mutters, glaring at a sheepish looking Mike, who's now holding an empty plate of something from catering. "Miz..."
"Uh, hey. Sorry." The other man looks flustered, trying to scrape what looks like pizza topping from the applique, the crust torn and scattered across the floor and their shoes. "I wasn't watching where I was going..."
"Obviously!" John rolls his eyes, swatting Mike's hands away. "Stop it, I have to get out to the ring..." He huffs and pulls the shirt over his head, slinging it at a startled Miz. Catching the wide eyed look on his friend's face, he pauses only briefly, taking a deep breath to calm down. "I guess this means my shirt technically took your lunch." Smirking, he turns and continues on his way to the ring. I'll check in with him later. For now...
By the time he arrives, Vickie is up on the ring apron, yelling at the referee, who has no choice but to call the match via DQ. Dolph is on the ramp, trying to make a quick escape, when Morrison takes his opportunity and rushes out, grabbing Dolph and throwing him back into the ring. It's some minor accomplishment as he watches the much larger man manhandle the US champion, mocking a squeeching Vickie with the fact that he had defeated Dolph the week before.
If that doesn't get me a US title shot, I don't know what will, he thinks, half-sarcastically. The way WWE had been booked and ran lately, there's no guarrantees for anything, he knows this quite well, but a victory last week and making Dolph angry this week- well, title opportunities had come from lesser things. With Laurinaitis seeming uninterested in Zack's twitter petition to have a title shot to the point of not even addressing it once, he thinks his chances are as good as anyone else's at this point in time.
"What happened to your shirt?" Alex asks, eyebrows raised as he returns to the locker room a few minutes later, his skin still feeling a little raw where Mike's hot food had sunk in through his shirt. "Was that your way of getting past Vickie...?"
"Oh please. Let's just say Mike needs to watch his step better," he grumbles, digging once more through his bag to find a new shirt.
"Oh." Alex still looks confused but lets it go with a shrug. "So you're going for the US title?"
"Yeah." He finishes pulling the shirt on and looks closely at Alex. "You don't mind, do you? I know that was your goal a few months ago but, well..."
"Oh come on," Alex says with a visibly forced smile. "If you or Zack can't get US title opportunities easily, what chance do I have? Laurinaitis seems to like me less than either of you. I guess I still have to prove myself, and I'll do that. For now, one of us should make the most of whatever opportunity we do get. It was my goal, and it will be again, but for now, I'm ok. After my hip issues, I don't mind working my way back up to the top again."
"Is that some of Miz's suggested honesty or are you just being... gracious?"
Alex grins at the awkward use of the word and shrugs. "I'm being honest. This company is in a strange place at the moment. Even if my career isn't at a great place right now, it's not stopping me from wanting you or Mike to do well. You know?"
John smiles too, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I get you." They check the monitors in time to see Foley and Cena in the ring, a "This is your life" segment all about Cena airing. "Oh, good God," he mutters, getting to his feet. "Hey, that crap Mike ruined my shirt with looked kinda good. Wanna go to catering? Before we lose our appetites from watching this?"
"Sounds like a plan," the younger man nods, quickly following him out of the locker room before the segment gets even worse. They spend nearly an hour in catering, taking in their fellow competitors talking and eating as they too dig into pizza and lasagna, splitting a plate of garlic bread and container of marinara sauce.
"Think the Rock's in the ring yet?" Alex wonders, curious about what Mike will do in response to Rock's presense.
"Probably." Morrison scrapes up the last bit of sauce with his final bread stick and leans back, content and full. "Wanna go watch?"
"Yeah." They get up as one, walking through the halls back to the locker room they had vacated earlier to see what the big deal is about Rock's one and only live appearance before Survivor Series. The focus is mostly, of course, on Rock and Cena bickering, and even when Mike tries to get the attention back on him and Truth, it still ends with Rock hitting the Rock Bottom on Truth and, after keeping Cena from hitting the Attitude Adjustment, repeating the finisher on Miz. "We should've stayed in catering," Alex mumbles, feeling bad for his former mentor. "Poor Mike."
"Yeah," John says. "Not a surprise, at all, but still... sucks."
"Yeah." They're still sitting there, thinking, when Mike stumbles in, an aggravated look on his face. "Mike?"
"Here," he huffs, throwing John's now food-free shirt back at him. "I had it taken care of."
John shakes it out, smiling slightly. "Meaning you passed it off to the seamstresses."
"Well, yeah. You think I'm gonna clean it myself?" He drops heavily down next to Alex, almost knocking him off the thin bench. Scraping his hands through his short hair, he curses, his voice muffled and tired.
Alex and John exchange a glance. "Mike?"
"I'm fine," he mumbles. "I'm just tired of this... overshadowed by a guy who can only bother to appear twice a year, if that, and his bitch feud with WWE's overrated wonder. Remember last year around this time?"
All three dwell on those days wistfully, when Miz was champion, Morrison was about to become #1 contender, and Alex was actually in the limelight regularly by Mike's side. "Good times," Morrison mumbles, shaking his head at how far they all have fallen since then.
"Yeah," Alex agrees glumly.
"This can't continue," Mike sighs.