Mike had plans. Ideas, counter ideas, "just in case" thoughts if something should go wrong with his original thoughts. He was going to beat everyone to the punch, fight Seth, put on another clinic, and this time win. Simple, right?

Or at least it should've been until Finn Balor attacked Rollins, ruined everything, and left Mike with nothing to do except stand in the ring and bitch about it. Which he does until music hits. Music that hadn't played since NXT, music he thought he might never ever hear in person. But he is, and it is- Tommaso Ciampa, recovered and angry. Yelling at him about never texting, pummeling Mike repeatedly and barely seeming to flinch at every bit of offense he manages to eak out.

Mike loses, staring up at the lights listlessly, and only just waits until Ciampa is backstage before making his way slowly back to his locker room. His head hurts, his body feels rattled, and nothing helps when his phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through his skull. "Hello?" he grumbles, relieved to have found it in the mess of his stuff in time to answer it before it goes to voicemail.

"Hey, Mike," John greets him. For a moment, Mike wonders if John had been watching, had called to check in on his old best friend. "How's it going?"

His hopes deflate. He exhales slowly. "Doing fine, John. What's going on with you?"

"Well," John says, hesitating in that way that lets Mike know something's happened.

"What is it?" Mike demands. "What's wrong?"

Morrison sounds surprised. "Nothing's wrong," he says. "I just, you know, wanted to let you know. Um. I know we've been talking here and there about me resigning with WWE, but uh I thought about it, and decided with everything going on, I don't think it's really the place for me right now."

Mike grimaces. "Ok, not sure what that really means, but-"

"AEW made me an offer," John says, instantly taking whatever little fire remains out of Mike's words.

"Oh," he says blankly. "I see."

"Yeah," John says. "I've been around the locker room a bit more while with Taya, and... it's good, man. I think this is what I've needed creatively since Lucha Underground ended."

It's tempting, sorely tempting, for Mike to interject, remind John how close he came to dying multiple times while involved in Dario Cueto's temple, but he know nows isn't the place or time. "I, well, I'm happy for you," he finally manages. "Those guys better treat you well over there."

'I'm pretty sure they will," Morrison says."Anyway, I just wanted you to know before it's officially announced on TV. We'll talk soon, alright?"

"Yep, talk soon," Mike says dryly.

He stares at himself in the mirror across the room and scowls, lifting his hand over his lips and wiping anxiously at his face. This isn't how things were meant to end up at all, but here's vary little he can do about that right now. Just grit his teeth, deal with Ciampa if he should want to continue this issue, and try to support Morrison as much as he can.

Sounds easy enough.