Mike taps his fingers against his forearm, frowning down at his flight information. "It's an early morning flight," he tells AJ. "I'll be home mid-afternoon, take the kids out for awhile if the weather's decent enough."
"Sounds good," she says, busy ruffling through some papers. "They've been very... hum, energetic all day, it'll be good for them to go out, run off some energy."
"You know me," he says with a chuckle. "I'm good at tiring them out."
"Yes," she laughs. "You definitely are. Anything you'd like for supper when you're home tomorrow? I'm going to get groceries in a little bit."
Mike thinks for a minute, then shrugs. "Nothing in particular," he says. "Surprise me."
"You might regret that," she says teasingly. "Well, I have to finish proofreading this dialogue, so I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow. Love you."
"Love you," he says before hanging up and walking back into the arena, putting his phone into the chest pocket of his suit. He'll have to change soon to wrestle Cody, but for now, he's fine in the clothes he'd flown in on.
He wanders into catering and collects a plate, filling it with some chicken and salad before sitting down to eat. He sighs and adjusts his collar before picking at the lettuce with a plastic fork, barely reacting as the chair across from him is kicked out. He finally looks up after the silence isn't broken and finds Seth Rollins sitting before him, his suit gleaming in the light pouring in fron windows overhead. "What do you want?" he asks, unimpressed with everything- the food, his company, his plans for the evening.
"What, a guy can't come say hello? Sheesh," Seth says, shrugging. "You're wrestling Cooooooody tonight, aren't you?"
"You've probably read the match card for the night more than I have," Miz says, still digging through his salad, looking for anything that actually looks appetizing.
"True," Seth responds. "Oh well. Good luck!" With a smug kind of cackle, he hoists himself back up out of the chair. "Try this." He tosses a couple of ranch dressing packets onto the table and leaves with one last flash of a grin at Mike before disappearing around a corner, off to do whatever it is that Seth Rollins does in the hours leading up to Raw.
Mike glares after him, exhausted and frustrated. "Idiot," he mumbles, before snagging the packets up and pouring them over his salad, stabbing his fork into it and chewing viciously.