Pre-hangover hangover

Rosie had not had the best run in the league. She thought that it was just a rough start, but even after management stopped forcing her to fight people three heads taller, her record had barely improved at all. She didn't think she'd care so much about it, she'd only really joined the league for the pay grade. (And definitely not to satisfy her urge to fuck others or anything). The checks would come in whether she lost or won anyways, and yet... Eeh, fuck...

And so, she'd gotten into drinking lately. It helped. Maybe.

Yes, technically she wasn't at the legal age in Japan, but if she could get fucked live on TV, a bit of alcohol couldn't be that much worse. She couldn't go to the bar of course, a fake ID wouldn't work when it was so close to the arena, people were bound to recognize the tiny conductor and out her.

So she was in her dorm with a bunch of empty cans and a bunch of likely-soon-to-be empty cans. No dorm mates to invite over today, everyone was out, probably at another orgy. It made no sense, that everyone could recognize her at a glance, but for her to be this alone anyways. "Heeh, just you and me toniight, Jane..." She said to her only guest, words slurring slightly.

Jane, being a stuffed monkey, gave no response.

"Oi, Rosie! Open the fuck up, will ya?" The familiar voice of a certain insane Bomber rang out drunkenly, followed by a hammering set of knocks on the conductor's door. Of course, halfway through, they changed into a series of denser sounding thuds. Either her hands suddenly grew three sizes, or she was headbutting the sole obstacle to her entrance. With her, the answer was never so clearcut. It could've been both, really. "I gotta talk to ya. And I don't mean like it's a trick to start fucking you or anything, but that'd be nice after we hash it out!"

The sound of bottles clinking against the door reinforced that, though that too was interrupted by another interjection.

"Aw, fuck. Where did I put the- Fuck, we'll play beer pong another time. Let's talk, I gotta tell ya this great idea I had!"

How curious. It seemed like she was drunk enough to think she ever had any ideas that weren't terrible. Still, she sounded rather earnest. Would Rosie open the door for her one-time nemesis?

Even with the copious amounts of drink she'd downed, Rosie understood that drinking with a stuffed monkey wasn't the most productive way to be spending her night. In her sudden frustration, she whacked the monkey upside the cheek, getting a much louder impact than expected. And several more after.

Wait, that was the door! And there was someone shouting through it? She focused in on the voice. Let's talk? Who the hell...? Whatever, the worst it could be is another drunk girl from another dorm.

She managed back up to her feet, hasitly opening the door before whoever was on the other side broke it down with their knocking.

Alyssa almost delivered a hammerfist to Rosie's face before she realized that the door was open. It was already awkward enough for her to come in like this. She could at least refrain from giving the pink haired girl a black eye. Of course, that was the extent of her courtesy. Barging in past the conductor with her six-pack tinkling, she picked off her shoes with such force she ended up knocking a few empty cans over on the table.

"Shit, that monkey looks pretty well fed." She slurred, giggling to herself as she padded over softly. "In fact, it looks stuffed."

Oh, yeah. She was definitely sauced. No sober person would make such a terrible pun. The Bomber staggered over to the couch and sat, knocking over more garbage in the process.

"Rosie, sit on my lap. I'm gonna tell ya all about my plan!"

According to one of those grainy, terribly filmed PSAs she always ignored in school, this was a situation to call for help. Instead, the pink-haired girl stared half-eyed at the intruder? guest? hallucination? No wait, she knew this...

Alyssa clanked her way over to her self-offered place on the little sofa, rearranging the mess. "w-wait a minute, you're...? What do you want...?" She stared the crude figure who may or may not be here to cause problems as her clogged mind finally matched the newcomer's face and voice. Oh. Her.

Rosie scootched back, moving in the opposite direction of Alyssa's lap with all the speed and grace of an unbalanced half-drunk individual. A few seconds after falling on her butt, she sighed, resigned to whatever direction this was going. "What plan...?"

"Holy fuck, Rosie. Did it take you that long?" She slurred, looking rather annoyed at the moment. "Then again, I'm the one who sees freaky shit. First time that somebody's seen me as a hallucination or something. Did I look all weird? Like, more than usual."

Of course, her annoyance didn't stop her from snickering when the conductor fell on her ass. Jeez, did she really have that much of an effect? After some thought, Alyssa finally remembered that they did fuck in public. That'd make for an awkward meeting after the fact, wouldn't it?

"Errr, yeah. Sorry 'bout that." The Bomber was about to toss Rosie a can of beer, before she realized she was more likely to bean the girl in the face with it. Putting the can back down, she shifted a bit on the couch before she found her comfortable spot. "Ah, yeah. That's good. Now that I'm not getting my ass puckered by a goddamned trash heap, I can talk."

She cleared her throat, trying to sound sober for this proposal.

"Rosie, I really want to get the tag team titles. I need a partner for that. If you ain't got any shit going on, maybe we could work together and get the gold?"

Rosie mostly listened to Alyssa; after all, if she couldn't make a few steps backwards, she wouldn't do any better at any attempt of leaving the room. A voice that didn't sound like her conscience piped up. Just forget about that one time, it was just two girls having fun anyways."Right, right, just don't break anything and you can stay, I guess."

She watched humourlessly as Alyssa found a slightly comfortable position and made her very serious-sounding and very insane-sounding proposal.

Apparently a few beers was past Rosie's limit, because she must've misheard that last bit out of Alyssa's mouth. "Huh...? Tag team... between you and me...?"

"Uhm... why, exactly? And like, why me?"

"Can't promise anything, but alright."

Alyssa was highly tempted to smash something for the sake of irony, but then she realized it was just the alcohol talking. She sunk down deeper into the couch so she didn't do anything unnecessarily stupid. Of course, when Rosie asked her for an explanation, the Bomber figured that the jig was up, so she'd try to put it in a way that didn't seem too crazy.

"I'm not some great judge of talent, so don't expect me to say you have some hidden potential." She said as she cracked open another beer. "But you seem reliable enough in the ring, and you're a decent lay."

Draining half of the can in one go, she looked back down at the conductor.

"And hell, I want my bestie to go on a good singles run. Sure, she got her shit pushed in by Northman, but she can improve. You aren't thirsting for the Kawaii title, as far as I can figure, so holding a different kind of gold won't derail any plans you have for the future, right?"

Well, that was probably as close to a guarentee as she'd get out of Alyssa. Not that a drunk's person word was any good to begin with.

"Reliable" in the ring was pretty generous, given her actual record. The next bit she tried not to think about too much. Alyssa was hot... but no more than anyone else here. Still, hot was hot, and despite the saying, crazy did fuck better.

"Hey, just cuz I'm not in a million matches a week doesn't..." Alyssa was right, but it wasn't like she'd be that much more motivated for the tag belt than the fluffy one. Although, having someone crazy like Alyssa pushing her would probably be all the motivation she needed.

"Ehh... I might be on board... but only 'cause I wouldn't have anything else to do."

Crushing her now empty can of beer, Alyssa prepared to toss it over her shoulder before she remembered she wasn't in her own apartment. Nobody would be picking up for her, so she just lightly set the trash onto the table.

"That's good. Good." Alyssa grinned in a decidely unusual manner, more lopsided than usual with a hint of sauciness that could only come from being stupidly drunk. "Keep it in mind. Should we shake on it? Or maybe we can seal the potential deal in a more personal way?"

She stood up shakily, lumbering over with a more raunchy look on her face as she approached the conductor.