Miz's face is too expressive for its own good sometimes. Anyone who looks at him- really, honestly takes him in- can tell he has something on his mind. Sometimes he gets this strange look on his face, like he almost wants to laugh, but holds it in at the very last minute. Like he has a secret, or a private little joke with himself. It weirds Alex out, the younger man having enough free time to watch out for this strange expression since he rarely has matches and spends most of his time sitting around in his street clothes, watching Mike and everyone else prepare for theirs. But tonight it seems Mike may be in the same boat as he is, the fan-active poll he'd been put in being won by Rey Mysterio, so Alex only has more opportunities to mark these odd reactions from the older man.
"Mike? What's going on?" he finally asks when Alberto Del Rio is shown leaving AJ Lee's office, aggravated and frantic to get ready for his impromptu match and Mike looks like he wants to say something, or release the largest guffaw ever. Alex isn't used to being kept out of the loop, it's disconcerting.
"Huh?" the new Intercontinental champion mumbles, blinking. "What? Nothing's going on, Alex."
He almost wants to push the matter but for a brief second, Mike looks nervous, like whatever he's keeping is sensitive enough that if one outside soul learns what he's up to, the whole thing will be lost. Alex lifts an arm in a half-hearted shrug, deciding to respect his former mentor's need for privacy. "Alright, I just thought... eh, never mind, it's nothing." They sit in strained silence for awhile, Alex trying not to stare too blatantly.
For his part, Mike stays blase for the rest of the night until AJ announces that Kane and Miz will wrestle later on. "Oh, fabulous," he mumbles, staring at the TV screen with an odd look in his eyes. "Hey, A-Ri, I have some stuff to do before that match. I'll see you later?"
He blinks, startled. "Sure, Mike. Good luck." He watches, frowning, as Miz leaves the locker room and leans over, scraping his fingers through his hair when there's a knock on the locker room door. When it opens, a tech is standing there with a sheet of paper in hand, scanning over the room. Alex isn't expecting anything so he begins watching Raw once more, waiting for Mike's match... when the paper is thrust in front of his face, startling him. He jerks back and looks up, blinking in surprise to find the tech standing in front of him patiently.
"You've been put in a match," he tells him. "Against Dolph Ziggler. It's soon, so you're gonna want to get moving."
Alex gapes, takes the paper, and gapes some more as the tech leaves. "Uh yeah, wow. Thanks," he mumbles, quickly shaking the fog out and pulling his gear from his bag, so amazed that his hands are trembling. His first Raw match since those quick losses to Tensai... Maybe a chance to redeem himself. Don't blow it, he tells himself forcefully. You can do this, kid.
Time passes by quickly and the match begins; he's so focused he barely notices that Chris Jericho is on commentary, but oh it's obvious Dolph notices. They go back and forth for awhile and Alex gets some offense in, even though the Show Off shakes most of it off and he's really not sure what his chances are- he's been on a bad losing streak for the better part of a year when he does have matches, and though he's loath to admit it, it's eaten away at his confidence. But Mike's luck had turned around with one solid victory- and maybe his could too, so he hangs on for as long as he can, waiting and praying for a chance.
A chance that comes when Chris Jericho forgoes his seat at the commentators' table and instead climbs atop it, cell phone out. Alex dimly hears something about Tout, while still trying to recover, and whatever it is that Jericho had said really gets under Dolph's skin, distracting him to the point that Alex sees his opportunity. Scrambling forward he uses whatever's left of his strength to grip Dolph's tights and tangle him backwards, rolling him up for the 1... 2... 3! Afterwards he rolls out of the ring and stares blankly at the ceiling. I won. Holy crap, I won! Sure, winning with Jericho's help isn't the cleanest of victories but Miz wasn't his mentor for nothing- he's not about to scrabble over the hows and whys. Not now, anyway.
As he stumbles to the back, Mike is waiting for him at the gorilla position, a wide grin on his face. "You won!" he exclaims, slapping Alex on the back. "Hey, man, that's fantastic." As Alex leans against the wall nearest to him, unable to stop grinning long enough to talk himself, Mike glances to the side. "My match against Kane is next but hey, soon as I'm done there, we'll go celebrate, ok?"
"Yeah, man, sounds good," he finally manages to say, nodding as Mike brushes past him to head to the ring. He wanders the hall, still smiling as he finds a monitor to watch Mike's match. His luck, however, wasn't near as good as Alex's this week. Kane just can't be taken out, no matter what Mike tries, and soon enough he's felled by a chokeslam that seems to shake him to the core.
Alex cringes sympathetically and returns to the gorilla position, staying in the shadows until Kane has gone by, everyone keeping their distance from the imposing figure. As soon as he feels it's safe, he ventures forward just in time to take Mike from a referee. Mike takes one look at Alex and groans, "Son of a bitch."
"It's ok, I got ya. Come on." He eases him down the hallway, careful not to jostle his back or neck too much. "Do you need the trainer?"
"No, I need a stiff drink," he mumbles, fumbling for his Intercontinental belt. "Ugh." Alex adjusts it around his shoulder, making sure it won't fall, and urges him along.
"Almost to the locker room, Mike."
"Wait, no, wait," he suddenly snaps, starting to struggle. "I need to talk to her- I said stop, Alex," he repeats, almost causing himself to faceplant into the cool tiles as he pushes the younger man away.
Alex holds him steady, however, looking up to find that they're in front of AJ Lee's office. "Why, Mike? I'm not sure that's a great idea with the mindset you're in right now."
"I'm not going to repeat Del Rio's moment of stupidity," he says wearily. "I just need to discuss with her something... important. Trust me, Alex. It's going to be fine. Besides, she already stuck me in a match with Kane. What more can she honestly do to me tonight?"
Considering she'd thrown two of her love interests through a table only a few weeks ago, well... Alex wisely bites his tongue and helps Mike to the door. "Do you need...?"
"No," he refuses, knocking quickly. "You can stay out here, I'll take it from here. Then when I'm done, we'll go get our stuff and celebrate your victory."
When she urges him to come in, he slips painfully inside, leaving a flabberghasted Alex behind. "What is going on tonight?" he mumbles, more confused than usual with everything that's going on.
He won't be receiving any answers this night, however, as Mike comes out as tightlipped as he'd gone in. He does, however, look a little more confident and somewhat appeased. "Come on, A-Ri. Let's go party it up right." His walk is even more sure, as if whatever had happened in that office those few minutes had been an insta-cure, erased every ache that match had caused him.
Alex shakes his head, not sure where even to begin with all of the thoughts and questions swirling around in his head. Mike, what are you up to now?