Playing With the Big Dogs

Leah came barreling down the mat in a furious spin, elbow tucked out and at the ready waiting for the right moment to release. Her momentum built with each hard pivot until she was in range. Her arm shot up and out, she even hopped up off the ground to catch his chin with a mighty European uppercut! “Pow!”

The spunky blond wobbled as her boots found the ground again, fighting the lingering dizziness she was experiencing after her start up twirl. She watched Beowulf expectantly, like a lumberjack who had taken the final swing of their axe, waiting for him to fall. Only didn't. When his head lowered to look at her in stunned silence, his own reaction was mirrored in her face. Awkward. The corner of her lip twitched a bit before she grinned nervously. “Eh heh… whoops.”

Edgar had pushed himself up from the folding chair to stand ringside, lazily leaning his weight onto folded arms. The match had barely just started but Leah was actually impressing. One wouldn't have guessed by the flat vaguely bored look on his face. Leah had a way of winning people over and making them believe her. He knew better. There was no way Beowulf, the real Beowulf was going to down like a punk. The moment he got in some offense, they would see what Leah was really made of…

That didn't stop him from supporting her though... In his own way. He slapped a palm on the apron, barking over to his sister. “Don’t let up, dummy!”

Leah snapped back into action as if her brother had cracked a whip at her, him yelling in her general direction normally had that effect. She twisted to her side, backpedaling off to Beowulf’s left with a shimmied step before kicking in behind his leg. She dropped, shooting her other leg out to attempt to capture his limb and take him down to the mat with a drop toe hold. He was a lot of man to move, she wasn't sure she could get him off his feet without him being on the move to physically trip him up… it was worth a shot though.

One would be hard pressed to believe that someone of Leah's petite stature stood any chance of knocking the muscled wrestling legend off of his feet. But with all of that wound up momentum and spiraling power she put into that flashy European uppercut of hers, she was beginning to prove the doubters wrong as the Wolf-man was looking like he was socked by someone three times her size and twice her age.

Beowulf was rattled for sure, but with a rather comical shaking of his head from side to side with his lips blubbering from the frantic speed of his cartoonish head swiveling, the Wolf-man was able to regain some of those dulled senses from a strike he kinda didn't expect to knock him for such a loop. Still, bringing out that firecracker explosiveness of hers was kinda the whole point of riling her up with their dueling promos. So at least now he knows for damn sure that Leah wasn't pulling her punches and was putting her heart and/or soul into this matchup of theirs, and now he's got the sore chin to prove it.

*Hmm...who's that weird looking dude?...And why does he look like a slacker?* Beowulf thought of Edgar after having finally noticed the blonde dude at ringside barking orders at Leah. It took Edgar yelling his lungs to finally grab Beowulf's attention, which may have been his own fault for not noticing him earlier. But when Beowulf was in the zone, there could be a tap-dancing tiger at ringside and the Wolf-man wouldn't lose focus and be distracted from one of his fiery promos.

But Leah spent one second too many letting Beowulf compose himself. The seamless method with which she collapsed to the canvas beside him and scissored his ankles was all top notch movement and application, but when she tried to shift to the side and topple the Wolf-man, Beowulf would manage to pull one of his legs free and stomp it onto the mat. Saving himself from losing his balance, but not saving Leah from what was to come next. The scruffy wolf-dude wagged his index finger in a No-No-No fashion to the audience before kicking his other leg free and coming down full steam with an elbow drop directed right down towards the blonde rookie.

The drop toe hold was a simple but effective move, one she knew how to use very effectively. Though, it tended to be on people her size. It was possible to take any news down with it though, but it would have required her or him to be running, letting momentum carry the sudden twist through to drag them down. It was a worry that with both of them simply standing like this, she wouldn't be able to move his substantial mass.

She applied the move with a practiced ease, but when it came time to finish it out, she couldn't get him over. There had been a chance, he had wrenched a foot free to brace himself from the fall. Perhaps if she had been quicker he wouldn't have been able to do that. Instead, she wound out flopping on the mat to an overwhelming silent reaction of her momentum being shot in the face before her every eyes.

It was an awkward state of affairs made even more humiliating when he looked down to her to wag a finger at her. She could hear him mentally tsking at her. Cheers flushing with a faint bit of red as she sheepishly chuckled at her blunder, frozen in place. “Er… whoops? Eh... heh heh...”

Edgar pounded on the ring apron. Why was Leah just laying there like an idiot? “Get up! Roll away! Do something!” Edgar had a very unique way of coaching. A very new age technique of free thinking strategy that flowed naturally… which more or less meant he yelled at Leah until she did anything under her own power or in a panic.

Leah started to untangle her legs, frantically trying to scoot herself away along her backside. It was reminiscent to the hero attempting to escape the giant boulder or driving away from a fall and skyscraper. She was so close to making it out from.under his shadow. This wasn't a movie though. She may have been a plucky hero, but between the two of them she fell into a sidekick role for certain. When would have been. Flatted by the boulder or mourned in a pile of rubble.

He came down on her with all of his weight, it felt just as solid as when she had drop kicked him, only now it was coming down on her, his elbow driving itself into her abdomen like a spear. Her lower and upper body reacted by tensing immediately, flailing up to either side in dramatic fashion that some would claim was her overreacting. They didn't just have Beowulf land on them however.

Her body flopped back to the mat under his body, wheezing audibly as every ounce of air that was in her body had seemingly left her like the pinched end of a balloon let free. Leah was left staring wide eyed in a stunned silence… only one thing crossed through her mind. Beowulf was so cool.

Beowulf had to give credit where it was due. Despite the end result not panning out quite like she would have appreciated, Leah's strategy was a sound one. Pummeling away at a towering giant until he was losing his wavering balance, all before going for some type of trip up maneuver where you could keep him on the ground and at your level. From there it was just a matter of you keeping him off his feet for as long as possible to eliminate the size advantage he had.

And she might gotten away with it too, if wasn't for a second or two of hesitation on her part. That may not have sounded like too much time, but in a wrestling ring, pausing before making a split-second decision is all it takes to turn a surefire victory party into a somber walk back up the ramp. He wasn't sure what was slowing down her thought process, but in this business you snooze, you lose. And Leah was about to be on losing end of his mighty wolf-style elbow drop.

Beowulf put every ounce of his downward momentum into impaling her from up above, which considering he's made grown men yelp like pre-teen girls from one of these elbow drops, was quite a substantial amount of force. Luckily, when you were a guy his muscled size, a quick hop and the perfect angling is all you need to knock the wind out of someone's sails. Beowulf was a grand master of the basics and making the most out of every wrestling move he could. And that may have been why such a rudimentary move had Leah short of breath and short on excuses on why a little old elbow drop felt more like a ten-ton hammer to the gut.

Beowulf stood back up with a bit of a satisfied smile after having finally swerved the offensive momentum in his favor. Things were looking a little dicey there for the ol' Wolf Dog, so he figured it was about time he started taking this young pup to wrestling school. And her instructor was going to be the esteemed Professor Beowulf, who had a P.h.D in applied physics, thuganometry, and badass old-school grappling.

"AHROOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" Beowulf and his fellow wulf-maniacs howled to the moon to keep the hype train rolling as the Wulf-man reached down to tuck both of Leah's ankles under his armpits. He stood back up and had her dangling upside-down, offering a bit of fair warning before Leah's impromptu flight trip.

"Hope ya don't get air-sick, lil' lady!!! Cause you're riding Air-Wulf now!!!" Beowulf belted out before slowing turning in one direction with Leah in tow. At first the Giant Swing would start out small with minimal velocity, but after time and around the fifth swing, Leah would be a clear foot off the canvas. The continuous spin-cycle going in circle after circle with many in the audience having given up counting with Leah now practically at waist-level, but they cheered nonetheless until Beowulf would send her flying for a tumbling roll towards the ropes...right in front of that blonde-haired slacker, to be exact.

Leah had never really been up against someone who not only by all accounts was her better in most every aspect of wrestling, but someone with such a distinct advantage size wise to her. She came up on cartoons, anime, video games... things where even the smallest of heroes stood a fighting chance. She was a firm believer of this, that heart could win the day. This had been a bit of a wake up call. Not that she was wrong, there was no doubt in her mind if she tried hard enough and long enough she could topple Beowulf. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday. She just had to keep fighting, get better, and come at things in a different angle. No, right now she was focused purely on the struggle aspect of their differences. She had been running around the ring to land her blows, and the effectiveness of them was definitely a big question mark for her. Beowulf was built like a brick house in terms of his durability and likewise in the pain associated when it came crumbling down on top of her. She had been ahead in their race for the pinfall in her mind, with something as simple as this elbow drop however, she was feeling him leave her in the dust.

As he climbed off of her body, she may have looked a shade paler, wheezing softly as she stared right back up at him, blinking. Fighting him like anyone else she had been up against, wasn't going to work. She had to be smart, creative, make use of the ring better... All of this was assuming she would ever make it back to her feet however. She groaned softly as her ankles were slipped under his arms, her back dragging along the mat as she was pulled up with him. "H-huh?" It seemed her early wit on the mic may have taken a few fumbled steps back in her recovering state. The back of hands traveled along the ground as her opponent began to spin. It was a slowly build up, it actually felt pretty good at first. The air resistance whipping her hair, leaving the ground completely. Had this been a ride at the carnival, she would have strapped herself in willingly. As the tornado swinging of the hold continued though, the spinning world around her became a blur, her stomach groaning in protest as centrifugal force was making her insides protest.

It was a blessing and a curse as she was sent soaring off towards the corner. Decent air time, a poor landing though. Her body bounced, once, twice... like a stone being skipped along a pond's surface before friction kicked in enough to ground her from skimming the surface of the canvas. She rolled backwards in an uncontrollable tumble, not at all helping the queasiness gripping her. The stop was sudden and fierce, her back whiplashed into the bottom turnbuckle where she was laid out in the sitting potion, head rolling back as she slumped. Eyes rapidly blinking as her hands reached out to grasp for the ropes, missing them the first few times. She was so dizzy, her depth perception was shot.

Edgar slapped his palm to his forehead, dragging it down his face with an annoyed groan. Watching Leah not only embarrass herself like this then get herself flattened was hard to watch. He had warned her though. Had she listened? No. Still, she was his sister. he wasn't about to get up and walk away on her lost cause. A few Wulfamaniacs howled behind him in celebration to their hero. The blond pugilist snapped around, taking a few quick steps towards the barricade with a raised fist. That was enough to cause a slew of them to flinch, recoiling back in a small scattering of bodies. He uptilted his chin at them with a flat look, the one and only warning they were going to get from him if they decided to open their mouths again.

Turning back around, Leah was being lifted into Beowulf's merry-go-round of upchucked lunches. The crowd, was impressed, because of course they were. Women had no place in the ring with men, that much he knew was true. This was a bit more though. Beowulf was a giant, Leah was an ant. They took an already unfair fight and scaled it up to the most extreme. Did he think it was funny, beating up on his sister like this? He scowled, watching helplessly from the sidelines as his twin was spun about like a rag doll, only to see her released in his direction. He didn't move, stone faced as Leah came barreling into the corner right next to him. He seemed almost unshakable, not so much as flinching. His gaze drifted up to Beowulf, eyes drawing into narrow slits. "Get up L." He mumbled to his sister quietly.

"He's really... really strong..." Her head lulled from side to side, attempts to find her footing to pull herself up were met with her boots simply sliding out from under her. The siblings began to speak softly to one another, drowned out by the crowd to anyone but them.

"No kidding." Edgar snorted softly, bringing his thumb up to scratch his cheek lightly. "Take out his knees."

"Huh?" Surrendering a hand from the ropes, she held her head, shaking it from side to side to get her bearings.

"He's a big guy. Use that against him. Cripple the foundation, the rest falls." He hadn't looked to his sister, instead keeping an eye out on Mr. Big Dog himself to warn his ster when and if he approached.

"Oh... that makes sense. I don't know about the crippling part, but I can work his leg... I think" She took a deep breath, reaching out to grab hold of the middle ropes tightly to pull herself upright, with a small wobble. "Thanks Ed."

"And L..." He cleared his throat softly.

"Yeah?" She blinked, sparing a quick glance back to her brother.

"Stop getting hit." Award winning advice. Best coach 2018.

Even when he was right in the middle of a match with one of Tensions most promising and aspiring talents, Beowulf couldn't help but critique his own performance every step of the way. It was just his way of improving his own wrestling game and keep ahead of all the young bucks who sometimes made him feel his age whenever he wrestled one of them. His particular criticism this time was around was one that was nagging in the back of his head...and that was whether his Air-Wulf quip was too corny or not. He's been working on his mid-match improv trash-talking skills since he made his last opponent back in America groan out loud from his last cheesy one-liner, and it was a bigger groan than he heard from him even after putting him in the Wolf Blitzer and making him tap out. He needed to make sure to ask Leah after the match what she thought of his and if she thought it was hip with the youths.

But he'd be lucky to remember much of anything after going through the same dizzying inertia that Leah was being put through. What probably didn't help Leah was how light she was and therefore remarkably easy it was to keep elevated for what the commentators would tally was approximately twelve consecutive spins after getting her airborne. He spun around on the back of his booted heels while twisting around until the audience in his field of vision started coming through like an abstract painting. This reminded him of when he used to spin around in circles as a kid just because it was so damn fun to be dizzy and fumbling around after getting your brains scrambled. His parents though were kind of...concerned, for him back than. But it turned out all that time spent spinning himself silly would come in handy during his wrestling years, which included being able to withstand the Giant Swing far longer than his opponents probably could. Still...eventually he had to let Leah off the ride, and he did so with a sudden release to have her go tumbling into a corner.

*...ah, that never stops being fun...* Beowulf wearily thought to himself with a childish smile while on his wobbly legs with a hand clamping onto the top of his head as if his head would go spinning off if he didn't. He emphatically blinked hard several times until a few seconds later when his scrambled vision would start to focus once more like someone handling the lens on a camera. He turned around until he found where he dropped Leah off and noticed her getting coaching advice from that slacker fella again. Beowulf decided to give Leah some to recoup and collect herself since he wanted to offer her some kudos on a match well fought so far. Also because he thinks he finally pieced together who the other guy was and what was going on around here.

"Phew...Not bad kiddo...not bad at all. You've definitely got the moves, I'll give you that." Beowulf hardily complimented while striding towards Leah with a beaming smile and in a non-confrontational manner before stopping a few feet in front of her with his hairy and burly arms folded. "But ya know...I normally don't condone getting outside coaching in the middle of a match...but after seeing the tight bond you got with that dude over there, I can see it would be totally uncool of me to break it up. Don't you worry little lady, I've pieced everything together by now. I've got an eagle eye for this type of stuff." Beowulf confidentially stated with a few reassuring nods of his head before bending down a little further.

"So...how long have you two been dating? I can see that you two totally have a thing for eachother, it's written all over your faces. Who am I to get in the way of young love, ya know? I just hope he hasn't been getting too frisky and plans to make an honest woman out of you~...Eh?...Eh?..." Beowulf coyly smirked while turning to his side for a few wink/wink, nudge/nudge pokes of his elbow into her abdomen, saying all of this loud enough for Edgar to hear as well.

Had it not been for the turnbuckle’s rude interjection into their match, the giant swing would have actually have been pretty fun. It reminded her of some of the little rides at the part when she was younger. Her and Ed running circles around a rotating platform with handle bars… sometimes when their day on was leave he would be there too and REALLY spin it hard. They use to perch on the edge and see how long they could hold on for. She rarely one, except when she cheated by hooking her elbows and knees around the bars.

Here was a bit different. He father generally didn't come after her when she fell off, really to slam her into the ground or put her in a headlock. Child services would have had a field day with that otherwise. Beowulf wasn't her father, but he was doing a pretty good job at teaching her a lesson or two so far. She tensed up as he neared, only relaxing once she saw the lack of hostility in his body language.

“Thanks Mr. Wulf, you’re pretty great yourself.” As if he didn't already know. Now that the microphones were gone and the risk of presenting herself in the wrong light was removed, a bit of idle chit chat was fine with her. “Oh? Sorry. I wasn't trying to be rude or anything.” She tilted her head curiously as he continued speaking, as if there was some great mystery the two siblings had been keeping from the world that Beowulf was about to expose. She looked very confused now, at a loss for words.

Edgar had been giving Beowulf the stink eye ever since he started over to his sister, compliments or not. Likely just buttering her up so he could beat it back out of her later. What a douche. His eyes narrowed to thin slits as the legend spoke, not nearly as starry eyed as Leah despite both of them having been fan of him back in the States. Why wasn't Leah hitting him? He was right there, completely open.

The corner of his eye twitched when Beowulf suggested they were dating. From there it only spiralled deeper down into a pit that found Edgar clenching his fists, blue eyes burning with an intensity that threatened to make Beowulf spontaneously combust.

Leah on the other hand looked like a balloon. Lips pulled tight, cheeks puffed out as she tried so hard to keep something in. When she was given the small nudges, it bubbled out as she burst out laughing as if he was the funniest man in the world. "Bwahaha!" She leaned forward, putting a hand on his chest to lean up against him as she was driven into a fit of giggles that was just as effective as being snatched up in a sleeper hold for her air supply.

“You fucking idiot…” Edgar grit his teeth, slapping a palm to his forehead. Was this guy this presumptuous? This dense? Really? “She is my sister…”  He glared up at Beowulf one darkened blue eye peeking from between his fingers. “And before you go there, like some weird sicko… this isn't no Game of Thrones shit. You filthy old man.” Dragging his fingers down along his cheek he balled his fist again, looking as if he was ready to jump into the ring and slug the professional wrestler turned comedian.

“Ed! Hehehe, language!  Eh heh…” Leah leaned herself back into the turnbuckle, finally getting her laughter under control with some careful breathing. She reached out to give Beowulf a light pat on the shoulder before spreading her arms out along the top rope to stand upright. “Yeah, that's pretty gross. I don't do any hanky panky with my brother. That is like… medieval times levels of ick. You got the tight bond thing though, so a good guess!”

She furrowed her brow, glancing up in thought. "I think we may have bathed together when we were really small though."

"That is in no way, the same damn thing, L. Jesus..." Edgar snorted loudly. Leah shrugged lightly, surrendering the point for now.

“Speaking of guesses… guess what?” Leah pushed up off the top rope, hopping backwards to catch her boot heels on the middle one. With a deft spring, she jumped out at Beowulf, attempting to throw an arm around his neck, cinching in her forearm under his chin. Positioned onto his shoulder, she would toss her legs back then forward in an attempt to whip the two of them around and down into the canvas with a tornado DDT! "Rawr!"

Like all the pieces of a jumbled jigsaw puzzle littered throughout brief moments in the match, Beowulf was supremely confident he had assembled together all the scattered pieces to finally see the big picture as to what was going on between the two starry-eyed lovers. All of those knowing glances shared between them during their little pow-wow session in the corner, the genuine concern on that slacker dude's face whenever Leah was on the wrong end of an offensive volley. Not to mention all of that sound and professional wrestling advice he kept bellowing her way, especially the useful tidbit about her not getting hit. Beowulf remembered back when his old wrestling coach and mentor, the great Snazzy Charlie Glassy, taught him how to evade incoming strikes...which was basically by the surly veteran ambushing Beowulf out of nowhere and socking him right in the kisser until the young wulfman finally became paranoid/quick-witted enough to dodge any incoming attacks, even when he was just going for a jog around his apartment.

Beowulf leaned back to stand upright and self-assuredly folded his burly arms after dropping all that knowledge on Leah, closing his eyes with a satisfied smile on his face as the blond couple processed the information. Beowulf was a hardcore wrestling badass, but he still couldn't help being a romantic at heart. Sure he wasn't totally approving of the slacker's backseat wrestling, but who was Beowulf to get in the way of young love-

*Hmm, wait why's she laughing?*

Beowulf widened his eyes in puzzling confusion from the chortling guffaws coming from Leah who was about ready to keel over from laughter had she not been propping herself up by leaning against the perplexed wulf-man. He glanced over toward Edgar once he started shedding light on the situation with a decidedly rated "R" explanation. And like someone clicking on Beowulf's dim light bulb in his head, the wulfman raised his eyebrows with eyes as wide as saucers as mouthed an expressive...

"OOOOOHHHhhhhhhhh.......HA, believe it or not, this wouldn't be the first time I made that mistake..." Beowulf started scratching the back of his well-groomed head with his other balled fist propped on the side of his waist, already laughing off the embarrassing misinterpretation. Luckily it looked like Leah was being a good enough sport to laugh everything off even if her bro looked like he was ready to sprint into the ring and let his fists do the talking. Even the wulf-man could admit he botched that one royally, and would kinda prefer to getting back to the match at hand when he looked down at Leah asking him to guess what...

"Uh...chicken butt-?"

...but it turns out it was one of those rhetorical questions, since before he could finish what seemed to be the perfect answer, she had catapulted herself off the middle rope and snagged his head in a front facelock. The slippery minx balancing herself on his shoulder before slamming them both back down to the canvas for an emphatic DDT. One that earned a pop from the crowd almost as loud as the sound of his skull being implanted onto the ring canvas, the scruffy wulf-man flipping over and laying splayed out with swirly-eyed dizziness to compliment his mumbling groans.

Edgar was no way as into wrestling as Leah had been growing up. Sure, the indie stuff was fun to watch, fast paced, hard impact, high flying stuff that looked more like choreographed fights than anything else. When it came to the over the top characters, that was where the sport was lost on him. He was all about getting down and dirty and hitting someone as hard as he could, not prancing around the ring like a circus sideshow. He still had a bit of respect for those sorts all the same, towering behemoth men throwing each other around. It was harder than they made it look. Beowulf was the prime example of a bygone era of wrestling, as old school as things got, at least before dipping into the territory days but shit like that was well beyond his interest. This wolf skinned maniac was the symbol of a time, one that was doing a damn good job of making Edgar dislike them all as a whole that much further.

While the bumbling big man seemed lighthearted and jovial, his near brainless assertion and tone immediately came off to the younger man as condescension. It hardened his eyes as well as his fists as he looked on with a growing supply of venom. It wasn't that he felt insulted, he rarely gave anyone the joy of digging into him, opting instead to let things roll off his back. It was the fact someone this moronic was loaded and one of the most prolific wrestlers of his time, an idop to Leah, and this is all he was. Just some big dumb jock.

“Oh, I can believe that.” He murmured under his breath, a faint rumbling in his throat marked the early warnings of a growl. These were interesting circumstances, being at Leah’s side when she wrestled. He wanted her to understand that she had no real place going up against men, he taught her as much any time the twins would spar, but time and time again he was finding himself rooting for her rather than wanting to see her humbled. It had been that way with Levi, now he was finding himself feeling similar towards Beowulf… the two men couldn't have been further from one another in nearly every aspect.

Leah in contrast, hadn't seemed to be offended at all nor did she feel any ill will towards the veteran wrestler. Not only had she found being haphazardly thrown around by him to be rather fun, but the insurmountable challenge of facing down a legend had her practically jumping for joy. She wanted to win. Of course she wanted to win, but it didn't feel like losing to Beowulf would be bad so long as she could give him a run for his money. In order to do that, she needed to start being smart about her engagements. Edgar was right about that, in his less than eloquent wording.

Momentum was her counter to their difference in strength. If she couldn't overpower him, she could turn his size against him. Once she had launched herself from the ropes and latched onto his head, the movements came natural from there. With a flourished twist, she sounds herself around the hulking Beowulf, whipping him around to the mat with a thunderous crash. She laid herself out on her back, letting his flopping form carry itself past her onto the mat before hurrying up to her feet. The crowd’s roar was deafening, her grin wide and proud as she surveyed her work.

Wasting no time, she pivoted on her boot heel to book it to the far end of the ring. With a sudden spin she threw her back to the ropes, both feet leaving the ground as she sunk into the stretching cables. She shot forward, running at full speed with no signs of stopping. Rather than stopping to assault the fallen legend, she continued on, stomping down hard at his stomach as she ran by on her way by to the other ropes, giving him plenty more reason to stay down. Springing off the ropes for the second time, a look of determination painted on her face. Hopping up once she closed in, she threw her legs up and forward, thrusting her body forward in a picture perfect missile dropkick aimed to take Beowulf in the side of his head.

The fascinating story behind Beowulf making that same sibling misinterpretation before was one he wouldn't mind dishing on, but it was perhaps saved for a better time, day, and location. This little powwow of theirs had already halted the momentum of the match to a grinding standstill, and you can only expect so much patience from a rabid fan-base who paid good money to see a slobber-knocker, not watch two people politely converse and talk their differences out. Still, the Shaw siblings were taking this embarrassing mix-up surprisingly well considering how the last pair of siblings he mistook for a couple had reacted to his gaffe. Namely by splashing their beverages in his face and storming off in a flustered huff to never speak to him again. Funnily enough, he's heard rumors from his buddies that he wasn't all that far from the truth...but Beowulf stopped them right there and said he'd rather not know...

Thankfully, something came along to interrupt all of this awkwardness between himself and The Shaws. He just wished it didn't come in the form of a side-winding DDT that left his noggin implanted into the canvas, flat on his broad back, and splayed out in a swirling, discombobulated daze. But this was all still immensely preferable to any subjects that were getting all...incesty.  Beowulf wondered if his knowledge of playground banter was as sharp as it used to be, because he could have sworn he gave Leah the only appropriate answer to someone asking you "guess what?".

*Geez...wonder how much worse this would have turned out if I answered wrong...* Beowulf grumbled to himself in the precursory movements to shuffling back up to a seated position. Having a naturally thick-skull once again saving his bacon from a tornado DDT that might have left your common Joe-Schmo wrestler down for the count. The rumblings along the canvas sounded like someone was running a marathon around him and helped coax him upward, only for the road-runner herself to stampede over him with a stomp to his abdomen that flattened him back down with a guttural groan.

Not cool, but pretty damn effective, he had to admit. The swirling crowd support and applauding adulation being proof of that and of Leah's own burgeoning fandom as the groaning grappler nevertheless managed to flip himself over and groggily haul himself back upward. Whatever Leah had in mind when she was done sprinting circles all-round the ring, Beowulf knew he'd rather be on his feet than flat on his back when it all went down. Beowulf had precisely one second to respond to her dashing full speed at him, and luckily responded wisely by raising his burly haired arms to block some of that missile dropkick of hers, but it still left him rattled and leaning against the ropes from the residual impact alone...