Before Mike can even make it to the airport for his flight to LA, he gets notified- by a 5 AM phone call, no less- that there's been a change of plans. Instead of a direct flight home, he gets to take a flight almost twice as long to Brazil, media schedule in hand. He's half ticked, half annoyed. As disillusioned as he is with how his career is going, this impromptu trip proves that someone in WWE still finds him worthy of getting his face out there but even so, using him in interviews and photo ops are one thing- why that can't bleed over into the actual ring, he's not sure. Even so, not being in the same country as Laurinaitis and all of the other annoying WWE big wigs is a very nice prospect.
He's somewhere between one interview and the next when he decides to duck into an Internet cafe and check things on Twitter. After paying for the use of one of the nearby computers, a coffee and a breakfast sandwich that is filled with eggs and sausage and doesn't look completely like rubber, he pulls out a chair and settles into it, taking a minute to relax. He loves going international, but it's always basically non-stop, which he doesn't mind. Even so, brief moments of solitude like these are much appreciated. As his account loads, he yawns and runs a hand through his haphazardly spiked hair, making it stand up even more.
It's through half-lidded eyes that he sees tweets from WWE claiming that Alex has been on NXT this week, his interest piqued. He didn't mention that to me, guess he had some change of plans too. As he clicks the link to read what his friend has gotten up to, he tilts his head, trying to work a kink out of his neck. He's barely made it through the two brief paragraphs on the show involving Alex when he jerks up from the chair, causing it to squeak against the tile floor. As most of the people in the quiet establishment look up at him uncertainly or disdainfully, he holds a hand up. "Sorry, sorry." Ducking into the men's bathroom nearby, he pulls his phone out and, not caring about the international charges or roaming costs, he quickly dials Alex's number.
On the third ring, when he's about to squirm out of his skin in impatience, there's a soft click. "Hello?"
"Alex? Hey," Mike mumbles, relaxing slightly. The man sounds ok, at least. Reading Alex Riley and attacked in the same sentence had conjured up some bad visuals, reminding him of all the various attacks Morrison had suffered the year before from Truth. "You alright?"
"Read the NXT reports, huh?" He sighs. "Yeah, Mike. I mean, I'm sore and the trainer wants me to check in with my own doctor when I get home, but I'm alright."
"Percy Watson, which one was he again? Do you want me to come kick his ass?"
Alex chuckles warmly. "No, Mike. And he was the annoying one."
"Of who? The NXT season 2 rookies? Oh come on, they were all annoying. Present company excluded."
"Why thank you." He laughs again. "So how's Brazil?"
"You're not getting off the subject this easily," Mike warns, his eyes softening as he gives in. "But fine, it's been crazy..." As he leans against the counter and tells Alex some of the crazier things he'd experienced, he feels much calmer than he has since leaving USA.
He returns to the States in time for the weekend events, relieved to find Alex hadn't held back on his injuries during their phone conversation- he was a little sore, but seemed to have no lasting effects from the attack. Even so, Mike keeps an eye out for this Percy Watson, especially when Monday rolls around and there are more people around.
His attention is diverted, however, when he checks the match board. Son of a... His frown grows, arms crossed over his chest as he peers at the words scrawled across the well-used surface. He barely notices the familiar footsteps behind him until he's being nudged.
"What is it? No match again this week?" Alex asks, looking over his shoulder. "Oh." They stare blankly at the Miz vs Brodus Clay taking up a portion of the schedule, Mike silently seething. "I'm sorry, Mike."
He hisses. "I should be wrestling for the title, proving my worth in this company... but oh nooo I get the dancing dinosaur." He huffs. "Whatever. I'll beat him like I beat everyone and they'll see." He shakes his head. "I thought things were turning around after last week but..."
Alex watches sympathetically, unsure what to say or do as his former mentor glowers once more at the list, turning on his heel to storm off towards the locker room. He winces before turning to catering to get something to eat while giving the other man a chance to calm down. It unfortunately doesn't work out as he watches with a few others scattered around as Mike loses despite possibly one of the longest fights someone's put against the Funkasaurus since his return to WWE. He watches uncomfortably as the men and women around laugh at Mike's loss, quickly going about their business when he forces his way through the curtain, looking angry and ready to blow at any moment.
"No," Mike says gruffly as Alex approaches him, lips pursing shut as he waits. "Just... just go do something else, alright, Alex? I need some time to myself right now."
"Ok, sure, Mike," he mutters, feeling somehow rejected as he turns away to go back to the main locker room.
"Hey, Alex?"
He stops, turning to look over his shoulder. Mike still looks pissed but there's a deep tiredness mixed in that freezes Alex. "What, Mike?"
"I'll catch up with you later. Get the booze ready, huh?"
He laughs slightly, understanding the apology hidden in the words. "Sure, Mike, I can do that." Half waving, he wanders off, feeling a little better about doing so.