Lady and the Tramp

Yep, of course, things were always going to be difficult. Styx may not have exactly spent much time around upper society, but she'd done it enough to know that things were rarely simple with Gwen's type. Always a hook. A catch. Fine print to read.

"Yeah, I did all that, but none of those things were terms you stated, so it's irrelevant. You don't get to throw in stipulations after the fact." Styx took the venom out of her voice long enough to lay out the facts in a plain matter, as if she were a laywer going over the fine points of a contract. This wa probably about as close as she'd ever get to that situation, so it fit. "Winning was the job. I won. Therefore, you owe me compensation. End of argument. Period."

Honestly, Styx was close to the point of attack. Gwen, for all the frilliness, was no pushover, and she wasn't under the illusion that she'd be able to maul the heiress without taking more than a few lumps. Hell, Styx could even concede she was the better wrestler between them, and she might dominate in the ring. But outside the ring was her territory. Here, she was comfortable. It wouldn't be an easy fight, but it would belong to River Styx.

Gwen's smile stayed her hand, though. Styx liked that smile. She didn't care much for the style of the words that came out of it, but the tone was interesting. Interesting enough to hold her attention. "I'll listen." She allowed a little of her own wicked grin to creep up. "Making no promises about the cursing."

Succinct and unwavering. It may have been for the best that they were moving on from the topic of River's expected monetary compensation for winning the tag match since neither side seemed willing to bend on whether the punk rocker truly deserved to be reimbursed for her actions. In actuality, River's simple-minded, black and white mindset could make her the most ideal candidate for the position Gwen has in store for her.

"Fair enough...an attentive ear and open mind will suffice. You see, if there's one universal fact about success is that it breeds complacency, and complacency breeds failure. A certain amount of paranoia is necessary to remain one step ahead in the business world, and as I'm just now learning...in this wrestling league as well." Gwendolyn spoke very calmly and lucidly to make sure River was following her, earnestly worried she was going to lose her. "My tumultuous road towards obtaining the title belt has no doubt left me with no shortage of detractors skulking in the rafters waiting to pounce, including Haley, whom we mentioned earlier. The Entropy Championship has painted a glaring bulls-eye on my back, and I intend to take the necessary precautions, one of which being...recruitment~..." Gwen sat up in her chair and perked up now that the point was finally emerging.

"Tell me..what would you say to being offered a job as a Primol employee and bodyguard to yours truly? As my threats mount so to should be those who would fight in my stead and ensure my safety, and after witnessing your propensity for wanton violence and questionable moral values, I'd say you'd be perfect for the position. Imagine...a fairly substantial paycheck for performing actions you would be doing normally, only now with my guiding hand to supply you targets. All with the perks of being under the warm embrace of the illustrious Primol name. In summary, you keep me protected and do my bidding when called upon, and your days of scrounging around the AFW stadium for scraps are a thing of the past...So, what would you say to that?"

"Fair enough...an attentive ear and open mind will suffice. You see, if there's..."

And that was as far as Styx got before her attention span ended. She kept her eyes centered, didn't waver, but inside she was zoning out. Gwen was one of those people who could talk all day without actually saying much of anything, who always had to use a paragraph for what could've been said in a single sentence. It was a test of patience, but somehow, she endured long enough to actually hear the point they were stumbling towards.

River Styx listened to the offer. She leaned back into the chair. She tented her fingers. She thought.

Styx didn't want to take it, but she was having a painfully hard time figuring out why not. It was a good setup. Part of her hardcore campaign centered around beating up people, anyway. Making examples. If they just so happened to be the people who were in Gwen's way, what was the difference? It wasn't like she had any aims on the Entropy Title and hell would freeze over before Gwen set foot in the hardcore division, as funny as it would be to see her try. This wouldn't affect her goals in the least.

Not to mention the appeal of having stable income. She didn't mind living on the land, she'd been doing it for years, but it would be nice to have more than two pairs of clothing. It would be nice to have some new brass knuckles. It would be nice have hots meals.

So why turn it down? Well, there was the fact that Styx hated every single cell in Gwen's body and direly wanted to rip her curls out of her scalp and stuff them down her throat. But that just wasn't good enough.

"You want an attack dog." Styx ran her hand over the peach fuzz that remained of her hair and leaned forward with a wry grin. "Fine. I'm in. Fair warning, though." Her right eye had a quick, barely perceptible twitch. "Don't get too carried away with the whole 'do my bidding' thing."

As if in an executive board room presenting a demonstration on quarterly profits, Gwen thoroughly articulated her proposition to River, blissfully unaware she was speaking to a block of wood and mistaking her dull gaze for intense consideration on the job offer presented. Thankfully River still had the necessary brain cells to recognize the opportunity of a lifetime when it falls on your lap, accepting her offer in the end.

River may not have been her first choice when scouring the AFW locker room for potential hired muscle, especially given her history of willingly putting the heiress in harms way. But time was short and she could sense the watchful eyes of her enemies waiting for an opportunity to strike, hopefully now deterred once they see River's imposing figure standing by her side. Plus with River on the payroll that's one less potential adversary crossed off her list.

"Splendid~...Welcome to the Primol family, Ms. Stevens~..." Gwen perked up and clapped her hands together. Normally this was the point in a job interview where the boss would shake the new employees hand, but that may be asking a lot considering where those hands may have been. "Once the details are ironed out you'll be presented with your official tracksuit and employee badge. And not to worry, I'll keep my instructions within your realm of 'expertise'..." Gwen would lift her hands to hand sign a pair of air quotes around that word.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, unless you'd would wish to finish styling my hair, I'm afraid we have to cut our meeting short. Do leave your contact information with the lady at the front desk on your way out. Oh, and..." Swiveling back to the tray of cosmetics to her side, the heiress would snatch a bottle of bath soap and flick it towards River on her way out.

"It's Moroccan Rose Otto body wash. As clever as your deception was, I'd recognize the smell of old rubber and cigarettes anywhere, despite your best efforts to conceal it. But that should work wonders for you...~"

There was a little voice in River's head, that popped up from time to time. As near as she could tell, it was her conscious. She rarely heard from it, but this turned out to be one of those times, and it was clearly warning her of the implications here. Aside from the fact that Gwen wasn't exactly trustworthy and would sell her out the exact second it become profitable to do so, there was the way this synched up with her image as the avatar of all things hardcore. She'd spent so much time trashing people like Lukretia and Gwen on the microphone and rallying against this sort of bullshit, yet her she was, taking money and living large as a thug-for-hire. She could almost hear the 'sellout' chants.

But, then again, she didn't care much what the audience thought. Fuck them, she was getting paid. She wasn't sure about the tracksuit, though. Never wore one before. It would probably need some unique modifications to fit her particular style...

Styx stood up and stretched, keeping her bloodlust tempered. She was still in the mood to beat the shit out of someone, but she could hold off on it until she ran into a victim worth the trouble. She reached into her pocket and took out a flyer for the Crazy Horse, one of her favorite strip clubs, and wrote her number on the back of it, right between her favorite girls' legs. Velvet Valance. Amazing ass. "I use burner phones and switch every other month, so I'll send you my new number before I change. Call me, tell me where to be and who to fuck up, and the problem gets solved. Simple."

Styx laid the flyer on the table and was just about to head off and find some trouble to get into, when she received the first gift she'd gotten in year. Body wash. Yeah.

She looked at Gwen. Then the bottle. Then back to Gwen, this time with rolling eyes.  She groaned and stuffed the bottle in her pocket as she made an unceremonious exit, tromping out of the room in her gaudy workboots.

Despite the obvious benefits to her own physical well-being from having River on the payroll, the idea of having to converse and obtain some manner of camaraderie with a "woman" as grotesque as her was already causing certain gag reflex's to act up. To Gwendolyn this degenerate, loathsome, filthy blackguard was the lowliest individual she'd ever have the misfortune of meeting, which regrettably may have made her the most ideal candidate to carry out the malicious tasks Gwen would concoct in her devious little mind. Someone with a broken moral compass who followed the money wherever it guided her, to get her hands dirty while the heiress kept hers sparkly clean...

Gwen wiggled her fingers goodbye while River snatched the high end bottle of body wash and trudged onward, out of the room and hopefully not to harass any of her busy workers. The heiress was confident her well-worded proposition convinced River that she was of greater use to her healthy and with full use of her limbs...buuuut just in case...

...the second River departed Gwendolyn would hop off the barber chair, dashing towards the door to wedge River's chair against the handle. Immediately afterward scurrying off to the sides and shoving a Victorian-era wooden table in front as well, gritting her teeth in annoyed exertion. With re-entering the room hopefully an impossibility for River should she decide to change her mind, Gwen started feverishly tapping away at the screen on her diamond-encrusted smartphone before bringing it up to the side of her face.

"Hello?...yes, she's in the main hallway as we speak. See to it that she's escorted off the premises. AND IT IS TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR A LICENSED BEAUTICIAN BE SENT TO ME!? AM I REACHING FOR THE STARS WITH THIS ONE SIMPLE REQUEST?!?!"