L.A. Duet

Amy was pleased. "Aww, you didn’t have to do that- we don’t even know each other. But that's real sweet of you, thanks." She buzzed for a nurse. "Check out my flowers!" She started, pointing. "Can I get a vase and some water for these?" The nurse disappeared, only to return a moment later with a tall white vase. "Thanks so much! My new pal can take that for you."

“Grab a seat.” She motioned to the chair by the hospital bed. She decided that she liked Domino; he was open and outgoing, and he was witty, which she dug. While she had started out looking to wax nostalgic about LA, her curiosity found itself more interested in learning more about the intriguing teen by her bed. The questions she had resigned herself to never ask after the texting silence floated back to the surface of her mind. "Your family's pretty awesome- a pro-wrestler dad, a mom with magic eyes, and a son that's both. How long have you been 'Domino' for?"

"You don't really need to know someone to know that being stuck in a hospital sucks," explains Drake while the nurse fetches the vase. "'Sides, you seem nice!"

Upon her return, he takes the vase and moves it to the small table-dealie beside her bed. The flowers are carefully set inside, turned just so to create the biggest possible bloom of dramatic purple. "There we go."

Afterwards, he does as bid and takes a seat beside her bed, opposite the plant. "They'd have to be. They made me," he quips. "I've been Domino for a little over a year. Started in a local fed' back in L.A. Heck, you might've even seen a show and didn't notice me. I got.. y'know, undercarded a lot. Young, not huge, model... people tend to not take that very seriously." He leans back in the chair and folds his arms behind his head, falling into a languid poise. "I got my looks from my mother," he notes. "Eyes, hair, the lot of it. I don't look anything like Dad, but I got a lot of his personality. Bombastic dude, blond, stocky."

When Drake broke down his genetic inheritance, Amy thought, well, it works. She could imagine his features on a girl, and they fit, but it wasn't like Domino was particularly feminine; quite the opposite. His sharp facial features and what she could see of his build came together to make a very attractive young man. 19-year old Amy would have been all over that. Heck, 22-year old Amy hadn't completely ruled it out. “If that’s true, then your mom must be a beautiful woman, and your dad must be a pretty fun guy to be around.”

Regarding the rest, however, Amy thought she heard a tone of resentment, so she decided to comment. “Yup. When I heard ‘model,’ I immediately thought, "pussy," and I figured I could take you with my bum leg and being stuck in bed like this.” She reached over and gave him a playful flick on the ear. “It’s their fucking loss. It’s pretty messed up that they didn’t give you your fair shot, but fuck'em, you're better off on this side of the Pacific. You got to meet me, after all." Amy thought for a second. "Hey, is that why you came to Japan? Do they look at your pretty mug and immediately put you up against kawaiis and the comatose here, too?”

Amy leaned back. She had a sudden craving for frozen yogurt. “I’m not gonna lie. When I saw that you were nineteen, I made the same sorts of assumptions. I get now that you have wayy more ring experience than I do, and I hope you can give me some pointers after we're through here, but I don’t think you’re gonna stop that from happening until you wreck in the ring, and even then you're gonna get the odd clueless dumbass like me jumping to conclusions. But if I were you, I’d use that to my advantage. I don’t know, maybe it’s different for someone who’s not tiny like me, and with something to prove, unlike me. But I like it when I'm underestimated. Gets me a good five, six free shots and a big head start in momentum, and sometimes that's enough to win a fight. They usually stop underestimating me after that."

Amy watched her flowers for a second, then she turned back to Drake with a cocked head and sheepish smile. “Sorry. I don’t usually like to lecture people that bring me flowers, but somehow I ended up with a lot of things to say. Maybe it's because it's been a while since my last visitor.”

Drake hunkers back as his ear gets a flick, and despite her words, gives a lighthearted laugh. "Geeze, don't hold back! Tell me how you really feel!" None of this is anything he hasn't heard before, and at least it's delivered by a girl who seems to no longer believe it. He leans forward again, propping his elbows to his knees. "Something like that. I thought it was a good move, thinking I'd be taken a little more seriously out here."

He gives the girl a dubious grin. "Aaand then I found out what kind of matches they have around here sometimes. The, ah.. hentai matches, y'know? I figure they hired me for the face." Beat. "If I can say that without coming off egotistical."

"Anyway, that's what I've been trying to do. No title shots for me, no PPV invitations..." The teen exhales a breezy sigh, indicative of some lingering bitterness. He doesn't leave the reason up for question long. "I get the feeling the same thing's happening here with the higher-ups. But that's why I'm pushing. Gotta make people take me seriously. A-and sure, it could be a strategic advantage, but when it effects the shots you're given, it really sucks."

Drake falls silent for a moment, gaze lowering to the girl's bed. When they lift to her again, it's with a softer smile that slowly grows. "Oh, and Dad is a fun guy. You'd love'em. And Mom's the reason I'm in the modeling business. As in, like... professionally. I wasn't referring to looks that time. Whatever, you know what I mean!"

He reaches a hand towards her to 'tag' her shoulder gently. "What about you, blondie? What's your story? And I saw you won the match even after your leg got screwed up."

"Don't worry, I'm sure that's not the case." Amy said, smiling gently and placing a comforting hand on Drake's shoulder. "You're not that good looking."

The rest of what he said gave her pause. Huh, when he put it like that, things really didn't seem fair. Amy's heart went out to Drake. She personally had no interest in any title, or the giant target they seemed to paint on the holders' backs. But she respected ambition, she respected persistence, and she respected drive, and her new pal seemed to have those in abundance. She wanted to help... but she didn't know how to go about it. Didn't you just... I don't know, challenge people to fights? Apparently not, because Drake seemed pretty bright, and she doubted that he'd miss something that obvious. All that was for sure was that Domino was getting a bum deal, and there didn't seem to be anyone among the top that was willing to fight this injustice.

Amy was a little startled at the reversal in questioning, but she raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Oh? Did a little extracurricular Googling, did you?" Amy winked. "Yup, I was pretty lucky for being such an idiot. Smart thing to do there was to tap, but the guy was such an ass. I couldn't give him that satisfaction."

There was another question in there. Amy had to think for a second. "I don't have much of a story, nothing quite so inspiring as yours anyway. I'm in the middle of a world tour. Figure I should get this sort of thing out of my system before I go back to the States and settle down in my boring job as a dance instructor, or forest ranger. Or competitive rock climber. Japan's stop number..." Amy did a quick count in her head. "...something. I'm giving myself a whole two, maybe three years here before I move on to the next place, because, frankly, Japan's awesome. Lots to see, lots to do, and the job I got here is the best I've ever had." She brought her fists up and jabbed at the air in front of her. "I get paid to fight."

Drake appreciates the touch. Sympathy is endearing, and small gestures like that can go a long way in the future. And then she speaks. "Oh, whatever," playfully snaps the male Californian. And that little colloquialism makes him realizes how nice it is to be speaking English with someone again.

Drake scoots the chair closer to the bedside with a coy smile playing on his lips. "Well, when a girl starts texting me outt'a the blue and happens to be a wrestler, I have to check'er out. She could be setting me up for a challenge or something!" After a beat, he adds, "Plus, I was curious if you were pretty."

But there's that story to consider. He leans back in his chair and studies her curiously. "So you'll be leaving us before too long, huh? Borrowed time? Can't get attached? Even if you seem like a fun person?," he muses, sneaking in compliments. "Y'know, I wouldn't have taken you for a really violent person. You have that whole..." He gestures vaguely about her head. "...sweet girl-next-door thing going on, I think."

Amy knew a trap when she heard one, but she couldn't help herself. She teased her ponytail, bringing it forward over her shoulder, then gave him a sidelong glance over the same shoulder, the barest hint of a pout on her lips. The effect would probably have been stronger if she were wearing her own clothes and not a sexless hospital gown, but, all the same, she knew her body, her facial expressions, and how to position them to look exactly the way that she wanted to look. "Well? What’s the verdict?"

Amy smiled at his sly compliments. Domino was a charmer; he probably stirred up some real trouble for the ladies back home. "Yup. Don't get me wrong; I can see myself settling down here in Japan. It's a nice place, and I like it a lot. But I can't be sure that I wouldn't like Chile more unless I go there and see for myself. Or Brazil. Somewhere in South America, probably, I haven't decided yet. Plus, I like talking to strangers, which is tough to do when you don't know the language, so going back to the States was always the plan." Amy coughed. "Hey, you want water?" Without waiting for an answer, she poured two glasses from the pitcher on the table by her bed, offered Drake one and continued. "It’s good though. You let me crash at your place whenever I come back to visit Japan, and, whenever you find yourself back in town, we’ll hang out; hit up Langer’s, catch an improv show. I'll run wingman for you, help you hook up with a Hollywood waitress- you know they don't come any prettier." Amy took a sip. "Anyway, that's not for a while yet, so it's not really something worth worrying about."

Amy laughed. "Thanks dude. This look earns me at least another three hits a match. And let me let you in on a little secret; I've been that sweet, pure, innocent girl-next-door to a lot of boys, and..." Amy leaned in and whispered. "We freak as hellll."

She leaned back, a mischievous grin on her face. "So yeah, I like fighting. I don’t know that what we do is violent, though. We’re professional athletes. We play a sport; there are rules to our sport, and, when the game's over, we stop fighting and go back to being regular citizens. At least, that's how it should be." Amy let her argument settle in for a moment before continuing. "This is all bullshit of course. I got that bloodlust, and it only goes away when I get to punch someone in the face."

"The verdict is that I'm starting to think these federations are crawling with models," Drake replies, reaching a hand out to trail a couple fingers through that ponytail of hers. His hand is then occupied with water. Those dark purple eyes blink at it, then return to her face.

"Ooh, I'm being friendzoned already?," teases the teen. "That's gotta be a new record for me." The water he didn't ask for is raised and sipped, giving himself a moment to transition his thoughts. "You're a vicious little thing. That's what I was saying. You don't have that look, so it's kind'a surprising. But it could take you far out here. One of those... babyfaces." As if he weren't one, himself.

Amy laughed again. "I like to make an impression. But if you want out, I look more favorably on applicants that can kick my ass." She wagged an eyebrow.

Amy had time to decide that she liked being called a vicious little thing before she remembered something. "Oh yeah, funny you should bring that up." Amy opened her email on her laptop and started searching for a file. "You know, most wrestlers at the AFW come in with their gimmick and clothes all already picked out, but every once in a while you get a total noob like me without an identity of her own." She turned the laptop to face Domino. "We’ve got some pretty excellent fighters at Tension and Friction, but I’m thinking that the true talent at the AFW is employed in their art and design department."

A.Poford.idol.png:

She pointed at the screen, letting her excitement take over for a moment. "That's me! Somebody fucking drew that. Isn't that crazy?"

Then she collected herself. "Ahem. So this is a concept image of ring attire that the brass is willing to make and give to me. You saw my match, so you know that what I wear in the ring isn't too different than- well, no, it's literally exactly the same as what I'd wear to the gym. Their outfit's not really me, I don't think, but on the surface at least, I'm pretty cute, so, in a way, it kinda is? The faceless powers that be seem to think so, anyway." Amy was rambling, so she decided to be direct. "So... as a super experienced expert pro-wrestler... what do you think?"

Drake half-lids his eyes at her in a coy, coquettish manner. "Aw. Is that your way of challenging me? I guess I have to get rough with you now, huh?"

When she begins baiting him with the laptop, he loses the expression and nods along. "Nah, you have an image. It's all natural and entirely you, and that's not bad. But..." And then the laptop is turned around, and his eyes are immediately glued to the image like a parrot to a shiny. "Hel-lo..." He falls silent while she gets the rest out, studying the detail of the outfit and the illustrated girl wearing it.

She poses her question, and the room has fallen into a few seconds of silence. When he speaks up, it's with a sly look towards the actual girl herself. "I think I wanna be your first opponent for breaking that outfit in." After a beat to let that sink in, he goes on to explain, "It's definitely cute. Bonus points for the bare midriff. Sucker for that. But it's not gonna hold a candle to the real deal." He leans towards her a bit, dark gaze flitting to the screen briefly before returning to her face. "What'cha think? Gonna do it? I think you're gonna do it. You sound like you're just wanted that teensy bit of a nudge."