Filming usually takes from early in the morning until mid-or-late afternoon, unless they can't get a scene just so or one of the stunts goes sideways. Since he and Alex have worked out the bulk of their issues slowly, Mike has found that the younger man would take the time to check in, whether it be by text or skype, or actually calling him, whenever he could after filming ended and before the live events began. Morrison doesn't check in quite as often, busy doing who-knows-what with who-knows-which project, but Mike understands.
It's barely breaking the mid-70s in Vancouver, but after a long day of filming and stunts and everything else, Mike just feels sweaty and hot. He should go get a shower right away, then some food, but all he really wants to do is just sleep for a week. Collapsing onto his bed, feet hanging over the edge, he stares up at the shadowy ceiling and takes deep breaths in and out. It's a fun kind of exhausted and this is the longest he's spent in one town in years, but he still has a yearning for the day filming will end and he'll return to a WWE ring, to home. To bugging Alex, and seeing Morrison sometimes when they're both in LA at the same time- a feat which is becoming rarer and rarer, to be honest.
He's about to give in and doze off when his phone buzzes in his pocket, reviving him slightly. "Ugh," he sighs, pulling it out. Without staring at the ID, he answers. "Yeah?"
"Good afternoon to you too, sunshine," Alex's voice chirps at him, unoffended. He sobers quickly, recognizing the tone in Mike's voice just from that short answer. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"No," he quickly refutes, forcing himself to sit up. "I was just thinking. What's up?"
There's a laugh in Alex's voice as he responds, "Now don't go mocking me but I was watching Z!TLIS this week and..." He cuts himself off as Mike groans loudly, interrupting his words. "Hey! I said no mocking me."
"I never agreed to that," he smirks, leaning back against the headboard to continue their conversation. "But fine, what did you find on that show that you think I might actually care about?"
"Morrison made a cameo."
This does catch Miz's attention. "Oh really? Is he still pretending to be in Heaven?"
"Sure, if Heaven looks like a California beach and angels have surf boards instead of wings," Alex shrugs with a grin.
"Oh God," he mumbles. "Guess Ryder couldn't afford his little sky effects this go around?" He can visualize Alex shrugging as they sit there quietly. "So what do you expect this Monday with Laurinaitis officially gone?"
"I'm not sure," he hedges. "Money in the Bank stuff, I guess, but other than that, no idea. I doubt I'll make it into the event this year."
"Join the club," Mike sighs, looking around his Canadian hotel room once more. A small smile takes over his lips as he remembers that all of this started, really, when he won Money in the Bank a couple years ago and began his slow but certain rise to the WWE championship. But, on the other hand, his luck had begun slipping steadily after last year's Money in the Bank, as had a good number of other superstars'. He wonders what this one will bring, if anything. Even so, he doesn't regret the possibility that he'll miss out on Money in the Bank, growing more content to be taking a short hiatus from the ring to film Marine: Homefront. With more time passing, he'd realized just how tired and beat up he was becoming, the time off giving his body true time to heal and relax; even sleep doesn't feel like such a foreign sensation to him anymore.
That Monday, filming wraps up a couple hours before Raw and he takes to twitter, sharing possibly the most priceless thing he'd seen yet during this adventure in Canada to Twitter.
So I'm filming a scene in town and all of a sudden, off camera, a topless grandma walks by. Only on #MarineHomefront
Relieved to finally have that tweeted after hours of waiting anxiously to get the time to do so, Mike heads back to his hotel, looking forward to getting something quick from the restuarant and then locking himself up in his room to watch Raw. It's his third week of not being on the show since Laurinaitis had excused him, and though he's a little surprised that the decision hasn't been reversed while under new management, it's very miniscule considering last week interim General Manager's was Mick Foley- who's never really liked him- and this week's is Vickie Guerrero- who only has Dolph Ziggler's success in mind.
He's picking around the remaining french fries he'd brought upstairs, half an eye on Raw as Cena rambles on about Star Wars- including where he says that Big Show is his father- when two things happen at once- the lights cut out, obviously cuing Jericho's return from his suspension and Fozzy tour- and Mike's phone goes off across the room. Cursing and jumping, he throws a french fry into the air, blinking as it flies off of the bed. Oh great, he thinks. Well, maybe it'll appease whatever bugs are hanging out around here. Grimacing in disgust, he dusts his hands off on his jeans and stands, wandering over to collect the phone. Morrison calling flashes across the screen and he blinks at it, lips tugging up into a small smile. "Huh."
As he answers it and wanders back over to the bed, he vaguely hears Cena announce that he's going to be an entrant into the Money in the Bank. "Ugh," he sighs. "Hello?"
"Nice to hear from you too," Morrison cracks, Miz surprised to hear Raw echoing back at him from the background of John's call, a slight difference in timing between the two televisions tripping him up. "You watching?"
"Oh yes," he mumbles, turning the TV down as he settles back against the bed. "Cena entering Money in the Bank... how revolutionary." He tilts his head. "I am surprised you're watching, though."
"What can I say, it's more tolerable when a certain loud mouth is in Canada."
"Oh, ha-ha," he snaps.
John laughs. "But seriously, I just figured I'd peek in now that Laurinaitis is gone. I can barely recognize it, the product's changed a fair amount."
"Yeah," Mike shrugs. "Heath Slater's actually getting TV time... who saw that coming?"
He chuckles slightly. "Yeah..." They both fall quiet, watching the TV. "I thought Cena hated Money in the Bank cash-ins, thought he found it cheapened it."
"Hm," Mike sighs. "Anyone really surprised Cena's a bit of a hypocrite?" He shakes his head. "Man, if I wasn't filming this movie, I'd totally dominate this thing. Former WWE champions? It's right up my alley."
"Heh, yeah," John responds after a few moments, Mike growing worried about how long it took him, and how quietly he's talking. "Do you ever-"
"Hey, man, if this-" They both stop abruptly, holding their breaths while waiting for the other to continue. "Go ahead, what were you saying?"
"I was just kinda wondering..." he sighs awkwardly. "Do you ever think back on that match the Anon GM forced us into?"
"Sometimes." Mike falls quiet too, reflecting on the match that had been the turning point for all of them, and its aftermath. "Why?"
"Do you think we would've had any chance at being friends again if you had somehow beat me that night, and been able to just coast on through with cashing in your briefcase with no restrictions on it?"
Mike scrubs at his face, wincing a little bit. "Or if I had lost to Jericho or Ryder before you?" He chuckles weakly at the thought of teaming with Ryder, something he had not thought about in a very long time. He wonders how obvious it is that he's trying to stall, think up a proper answer for John's question.
"Mike."
He sobers up quickly, not surprised that Morrison isn't that willing to give up on the topic. Finally he takes a deep breath and answers. "I'm not sure," he says honestly. "I'd like to think so, but this business, the way it is sometimes... I guess it could've gone either way, you know? Maybe after Laurinaitis fired you, but even that's iffy. You know?"
Morrison sighs slightly, a burst of static against Mike's ear. "Yeah, I know. Well, at least we know the Anon GM was good for something," he chuckles slightly.
"Either way, I'm glad it worked out the way it did," he says, leaning back against his bed to be comfortable while their conversation continues.
"Me too."