After leaving Raw and spending most of the night exploring Washington DC, Mike and Alex end up at the hotel bar for a quick drink before checking out and heading to the airport for the overseas tour, there being no point to getting some sleep with their red eye flight a couple of hours away by now. Getting through TSA and everything else would take almost that much time.

"So how'd you like the tour?" Alex asks with a slight smile, running a finger along the brim of his glass.

Mike is looking comfortable and sleepy, his arms folded on top of the bar as he clings to his own glass, taking slow sips of it now and then. "It was awesome," he says with no sense of irony. "You're a good guide."

Alex chuckles fondly, looking down at his reflection in the bar. He looks tired too but with the nearly two week international tour ahead, he knows he couldn't sleep even if he wanted to. He knows without even needing to ask that Mike will probably be out as soon as they get settled in their seats on the airplane. Speaking of, he realizes the time is slipping away much quicker than he expected. "Come on, Mike," he urges softly, dropping some money on the bar to cover their drinks, along with a tip. "We should go."

"Already?"

"Yeah, man. We don't want to miss the flight." He collects Mike's bag from the floor along with his own, shouldering them as the exhausted man slips off his stool. "Alright?"

"Yeah. I can carry my own bags, Alex." He reaches out for it but Alex wisely sidesteps him, smiling slightly as Mike wobbles in response, almost losing his balance despite just standing there.

"I can tell," the younger man says with a fond eye roll. "Come on, Mike. Time to go." By the time he gets the bags in the trunk and everything settled, Miz is already dozing off from the passenger seat of the rental and he chuckles. Guess I overestimated with the airplane guess, he thinks before starting the car. Thankfully Miz wakes up enough to make it through the TSA check point and onto the plane when it's time, immediately falling back into a deep sleep as soon as they're settled. Alex watches him for a while, wondering how exactly the Ohio native makes it so long without much sleep before turning to look out of the window as they slowly take off, the sun just starting to rise in the distance. "Here we go."

The international tour has its share of ups and downs. Mike, as always, is busy with his media events and various other things. They also both have numerous matches at non-taped live events, Alex thankfully regaining his rhythm fairly quickly after the attack by Lord Tensai and that strange mist that had messed with his coordination more than anything else in his career thus far. He's not surprised to find his name not on the white board with the matches and segments listed for London's Raw that Monday, but when Mike tenses next to him, he quickly rereads the scribbled names across the surface.

"Mike-" he says quietly, frowning. They had both brushed last week away as a one-off, but here's another Raw with nothing planned for Miz. The tension is visible in his former mentor, who doesn't even look over at him before squaring his shoulders, marching down the hallway towards where he can see the sign depicting Laurinaitis' office. "Mike!"

"I'm fine, Alex," he snaps without turning around or slowing his approach. "I just want to have a little talk with him."

Biting his lip, the former NXT rookie hovers around in the hallway outside of the room, waiting and listening. There are no raised voices, no breaking glass, nothing to show what's going on inside and each passing second does nothing but add to his anxiety. Finally the door opens quietly and Mike slips out, his lips pursed thinly. "Mike...?"

"He has nothing for me tonight," he says, his voice sounding as dead as his eyes look. "Why do I get the feeling I'm getting jerked around again?" Alex shakes his head, uncertain what to say, do. "I thought, maybe... when I won the match at 'Mania and assured Laurinaitis' role as permanent GM that he would give a little more consideration to... to me, maybe give me a title match, something... but nope. Like everything else, this was just a practice in futility. I'm back at where I started, before Wrestlemania." He kicks viciously at a box of merchandise laying nearby, waiting to be put onto one of the many tables for the multitudes of fans that would be flocking into the arena soon, nearly sending it cleanly down the hallway. "Dammit!"

Alex licks his lips, stepping closer. "I have an idea, Mike."

London is nothing like Washington DC, A-Ri doesn't know one pub from the next since he's only been on a couple International tours thus far, but he quickly finds his way and soon enough they're settled down at another bar stool, working through a pitcher of beer and looking over the food menu.

"At this rate I'm gonna be stuck on Superstars," the former champion sighs, once more leaning his arms against the edge of the bar, though this time his stance reads more hopeless than relaxed. He casts a quick glance over, making a face. "No offense."

"None taken," Alex says smoothly, hiding a wince. "It'll be ok, Mike. You'll see. There's just a lot going on right now."

He sighs, staring glumly across at a line of alcoholic bottles on display across from them. "I have no idea what to tell the Mizfits," he mutters after draining his glass. Unlike the week before, he's not taking his time with working through the drinks set before him. He's also much more awake this time around so Alex isn't very comfortable with this, but he can understand so he keeps his thoughts to himself for now.

"Maybe tell them to be patient?" he suggests quietly.

"I guess it could work," he mumbles, shaking his head. "I can't even consider going to Smackdown, because Laurinaitis is in charge there too now. Ugh, helping him win was a really big mistake, I think."

Alex sighs sympathetically, patting Mike on the back before signalling the barkeep for another round.