Diva Delivery

Kimiko Danzaki:

Running behind schedule was normally no laughing matter, but today Kimiko was going to make an exception. She had traversed up and down several blocks looking for an elusive address she wasn't familiar with for quite some time before eventually pulling up beside a stopped car to ask for directions. She had given the driver quite a start, not expecting to be interrogated at a light by a young woman on a bike, but once she made clear she for sure was not there to rob him, he was more than happy to help. She could only image the dumbfounded look on her face when she was directed to the Friction arena. Funny how she didn't make the connection to the address and the place she worked. Life just had a way of being strange like that she supposed.

She secured her bike to a lamp post in the parking lot via a long chain and a sturdy lock. You couldn't be too careful. While there were designated placed for setting a bike in a rack closer to the arena, she knew first hand because she used it other times, today she was here on official and very professional business so that meant she needed a full parking spot for her bicycle. Nevermind it positively swam in the large void meant for a car, it was the proper way to conduct business.

The brunette slipped on her baseball cap with a "3S" logo for her relieved service plastered across the front and snapped a small ID badge on the lapel of her jacket that displayed a less than flattering picture of her half awake. With a cheerful hum she hefted the lone package off the back of the bike, letting it rest across her shoulder with a clipboard rattling on top of it. The young girl trotted merrily through the rows and rows of parked vehicles making her way to the front of the arena, occasionally breaking out into song before the actual lyrics of the music illuded her and she replaced the real words with mumbled noncommittal replacements.

Rather than swiping herself through with her AFW workbadge she walked straight to the front desk and hit up the receptionist, flashing her badge and letting them take a look at the package. From there, it went through a security check and there were some probing questions as to the legitimacy of her business until one of them recognized her as the member of the wrestling talent. She told them to pay it no mind and keep everything official. Bureaucracy after all, was an important part of being professional, which she most certainly was.

Leaving the front desk, the receptionist was kind enough to spot her to give directions as Kimiko had started wandering off in the wrong direction. Armed with this newfound knowledge, she was able to wander in the right direction, eventually finding the right spot after several door knocks and one questioning of a woman in a bathroom stall later. A lone wooden door with a star on the front and a smalls name placard reading "Bettencourt". That looked close enough to checked out with her box, so she knocked.

"Ms. Grendolmen Dupot Bet-on-courts?" Kimiko gently set the package down, retrieving the clipboard to read off the name off… it was in her own handwriting but she still managed to have difficulty reading it. There were some other small details checked on the sheet, so she went down them mentally while rapping on the door with her knuckle.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

No answer.

"I guess I will just leave it here… hrk…" The brunette let out a sound of physical pain as she stared at the bottom of the sheet, a grim look playing across her face. She lowered her head casting her facial features into darkness as she read aloud. "Signature required…"

She would have to come back again tomorrow now. That was the pits, especially after she had made the long and arduous journey here. Unless… Kimiko pat herself down, checking her pockets for any other packages she might have on her person. Nothing. This was her last delivery of the day… she could just wait here for a bit.

Peeking subtly from side to side, she glanced down the length of the hall. Nobody enough. She set her hand on the doorknob, giving it a small rattle and to her surprise it opened freely. She cracked it just enough to slip her head through, looking around. "Ms. Grendolmen? Oh… Wow."

There was a stark contract between the drab gray hallway and lush room in which she found herself peeking into. Almost otherworldly, it seemed out of place in what was a essentially a gladiatorial pit of the modern era. Just to be sure this was real, she pulled back to peer down the hall again. Everything seemed fine… She waited a beat… then two… nothing. So she did what any reasonable person would do and slipped inside, hoisting the package up under an arm and nudged the door closed behind her.

Surprisingly spacious with a fresh scented cleanliness she hadn't really seen past the showroom of a furniture store. Everything here was ornate, like it had been taken from some far off fairytale palace. She spun on the ball of her foot, taking it all in with a twirl. Until rack of vibrant clothes caught her eye. She silently mouthed an "Oooo", making her way over to give them a gander. Pretty dresses flush with blues and gold and tasteful applications of lace. She pinched a short cut sleeve, feeling the material. Soft… it made her grin.

"Wow, this is super girly stuff... What even are half of these?." She casually brushed back garments on the rack to the jingle of hangers skidding along the golden for that suspended them, eventually coming across what looked like some sort of one piece swimsuit. With a curious hum, she tugged the hanger off the rack, straightening herself up as she held the garment up in front of herself, gauging how well it might fit. She glanced around, turning to face a nearby mirror when she spotted it. She was grinning dumbly from ear to ear at just how strange she imagined this would look on her. Weird choice in design that would likely show skin and needless frills. All of this stuff looked like some sort of life-size doll's dress up. Without lingering too much longer she set it back on the rack and wandered away to find a place to wait.

Her eyes settled on a coffee table laid out as a centerpiece of a small U shaped couch. Upon its surface was a silver tray laid out with several smaller places of tiny cut cheeses, meats, spreads and crackers. The brunette's stomach rumbled at the sight, reminding her she hadn't had anything to eat since early morning. Surely it wouldn't be an issue if she took a bit now… there was too much here for one person and Kimiko was delivering a vital package. That was almost like being a hero fitting of at least a tiny reward.

She gently set the box down on the edge of the table, side shuffling herself to the middle of the couch. Her weight fell backwards onto the cushions with a weary sigh, giving way to a gasp of surprise when she sank farther than she thought she would in the pillowy couch. She couldn't recall even sitting in something so comfortable, ever… it was nice. The wayward delivery girl eased back with a wiggle, smiling contently as she sat forward to pick at the spread of food, compiling a triple decker sandwich between crackers. She chomped down, chewing loudly as a television remote caught her sight. Picking it up, she pointed it at a sleek black display and flipped it on, starting to channel surf while she waited.

G.D.B.:

Dual miniature flags flapped in the brisk winter winds whilst mounted atop the hood and headlights of a certain elongated, pitch black Rolls Royce limousine traveling down teeming city streets. Onlookers curious as to whom was being driven inside the opulent mode of conveyance need only narrow their vision on those aforementioned royal blue flags to notice the cursive "P" letter etched upon them, as well as simply take notice of the general direction the limo was heading in. The AFW arena coming into sight upon it's approach, one taken numerous times over the years in a scheduled routine honed to perfection by it's dignified, aristocratic occupant currently sipping a glass of sparkling champagne with a droll smile on her posh visage as she centered her attention through her one way viewing side window. Content to relax and indulge her mirthful whimsies in nostalgic recollection of her time spent in Japan for the few minutes before her limo would be pulling into the arena's parking lot...or she would if not for the fact that she had to divide her attention between those thoughts and her dutiful lady publicist reading aloud her list of scheduled commitments, appointments, interviews, and swarthy engagements where she would hobnob and rub elbows with all manner of celebrities, politicians, industry leaders and people of renowned influence who all together could be argued to run the, well....world. But than Gwendolyn heard something that made her balk, turn to her publicist and say...

"I beg your pardon?"

"...*ahem*...I-I said we appear to be having some issues filling out the uh...guest list for your annual birthday festivities, Madam Bettencourt. All other arrangements are in place, of course. The fly-over jets, sky-writing, the exotic animals, the band performances, the London Philharmonic, multi-course meals, fireworks, etc...b-but we appear to be running short on willing partygoers. A substantial number of guests have not sent back their RSVP, and we're beginning to exhaust our-..."

"WHAT...you are exhausting, is my patience. Such issues simply must be a result of someone's slipshod mismanagement. Why, I've a plethora of willing colleagues and compatriots who would see it as an eternal honor to be granted an invite to such a Gala event as the celebration of mine own birth~..." Gwendolyn noticing the limousine coming to a halt and their arrival at the arena, finishing her champagne to set the glass down and continuing the conversation onward as her limo driver started opening the passenger side door. "Worry not~...I'm abundantly confident this matter will be solved on it's own in due...time?"

That final word having a befuddled, inquisitive inflection to it as if she were asking it as a question. The broad expanse of the jam-packed parking lot stretched out before her in what was the dawning realization that they had not parked in their reserved spot as per the norm, and were clear on the opposite side of the world. The distressed limousine driver, hat in hand, explaining as best he could that someone had chained up their mountain bike right in their private parking spot, and this was the closest other spot in sight. Miffed with a twinge of irritation, Gwendolyn scoffed with a raise of her gloved hand in the driver's direction so he would stop profusely apologizing already...and began trekking onward accompanied only by her publicist. Baffling ineptitude seemingly haunting the heiress everywhere she turned this day, and was already priming her to be in a rather foul mood by the time she clomped her white boots up to the main entrance. She noticed the offending bike in question occupying her parking spot, chained down with a logo brandishing triple "S's." A part of her having half a mind to order it's immediate destruction, but both her and Adrian and been reprimanded by AFW officials for certain...liberties, they had taken with eachother's modes of conveyance. Any further strikes on her record could result in suspensions from being on the active roster, so for ONCE in her life, she was willing to let this irritation slide, and allow security to handle matters. Her saintlike patience having partly to do with the fact that in her dressing room awaited a scrumptious accompaniment of her favorite finger foods. Whose taste she was fantasizing about now as she stepped through the automatic doors into the expansive lobby.

Everyone in her immediate vicinity parting way, humbly greeting her, or merely stood at attention upon her arrival. Even the front desk receptionist waving pleasantly while wishing her a pleasant day, foregoing any notion of work-badge swiping as the guards made way for those already on line for the security check to step aside for the golden-curled blueblood, smiling smugly throughout her imperial march The privilege of her exalted social status shining through with every poised step down the banal hallways within whom she was regarded as not merely the heir apparent to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, but a renowned wrestling champion whose feats could only be claimed to have been attained by a minuscule few within the business. A Queenly status that almost puts her on a pedestal higher than the one she regularly puts herself on, and soon she would be basking in the palatial luxury of her-

"Whyismydooropen?" Gwendolyn balked in mid-step, briefly frozen in place at the second consecutive odd occurrence this day, than stepping forward with a quirked eyebrow and publicist right behind her. Who was silent in offering Gwen anything resembling an explanation upon their inquisitive arrival. For now timidly stepping forward in the unfortunate happenstance of a burglary transpiring...unfortunate for the burglar, mind you. The perplexed duo following the trail of mishandled clothing and wrestling attire and sounds of the HDTV in the main lounge. Where they would come across a sight more astounding than any mere lumbering thief. A...baseball cape wearing...hoodlum was casually sitting there and ravenously inhaling the meal Gwendolyn now had zero chance of indulging herself in. Rampant, offending indignation boiling within Gwendolyn, who stared grimacing daggers at the back of this stranger's head. Her publicist whispering her suggestion for them to call the authorities, but was given the same halt via a raised a hand from Gwendolyn as the limo driver. One step being taken at a time towards this intruder with a trembling shiver of her shoulders, but as she approached her balled fists unclenched thanks to the deep breathing she performed. The heiress folding her hands behind her before bowing down so her golden-curled head would pop up beside this woman. "Ahem...I ever so hope you're enjoying each delicious morsel of exquisitely crafted cuisine...Might I offer you a BEVERAGE as well?~...Fresh pillow, newspaper, mint, a napkin perhaps? If there's anything at all I can feasibly do to make your stay in this luxurious abode as comfortable as possible, please do NOT hesitate in asking it of me~..." Gracefully enunciated with a wholesome smile to accompany her words, though still veiled in dripping sarcasm.

"Oh man… no way you are getting through that." Kimiko crunched down yet another cracker spread thick with whatever the tray had to offer, a blatant ignorance to its value or application. There seemed to be plenty of whatever it was so she wasn't overly concerned aside from brushing off a few stray crumbs that found their way into her chest. Aside from indulging in flavorful delights, she had found great entertainment in a game show where people tried to fit through holes in walls that fast approached to push them into a pool of water. She couldn't help but feel she would do well if given the chance… athletic and flexible, she was sure to win.

The brunette was startled upright by the sudden appearance of a stranger, Kraft huddled against the couch cushions blinking over at Gwendolyn with a small speckling of caviar in the corner of her mouth. She eased back to a more relaxed state as the blond woman talked, taking her at face value with a kind offer to serve her. She was well spoken and fancily dressed… perhaps some sort of a butler? We're female butlers a thing?

"Oh… yeah, sure. A drink would be pretty great. This stuff is kinda dry." Kimiko flashed Gwendolyn a larger dopey grin with a naive chuckle so genuine it was almost sickening. The venomous sarcasm dripping from the British woman seemed to not only go over the Japanese native's head, but fly off into orbit where there was no hope in them ever truly registering. The brunette slipped a hand behind her, rubbing her neck lightly.

"Hey, you don't happen to know a Ms. Grendolmen, do you? I am sorta waiting for her to sign for a… oh!" Kimiko's eyes lit up as she spotted the publicist lingering in the background and immediately assumed it was the person she was after. With a cheerful bounce she hopped to her feet, scooping up the package under one arm and the clipboard in the other. She gave Gwendolyn a small tip of her hat before brushing past her as if she was no no real importance to stride up to her publicist instead, offering out the package.

"Ms. Grendolmen I presume! If you could, I just need you to sign here on the dotted line. Do you need a pen? I should have one in my back pocket." Hands full with the clipboard flipped over to the publicist, the ever professional Kimiko turned her hip, offering her backside to the hapless helper in an offer to search for the pen in her pants pocket as if this wasn't odd at all.

Television announcer's bellowed the fate of the water-logged contestant as Gwendolyn stood there flabbergasted beyond all reproach as to how...whoever this person was, did not get the contemptuous message densely thickened in sarcastic overtones. She promptly dropped the flowered faux friendliness on her visage for more of a deadpanned blankness to her half-lidded eyes, as if she was inwardly ruminating as to whether this was all a clever act on this strangers part to portray herself as this much of a dullard...or if this were, in fact, not an act. And this wild-haired intruder with the insatiable appetite did, in actuality, have no fathomable idea as to whom she was now addressing. The latter explanation being far less plausible in Gwendolyn's egocentric rationale...so with a clearing of her throat, Gwendolyn reaffirmed herself and opened her mouth to properly address this unkempt ruffian once more, elegantly raising her gloved hand and pointing it's index finger upward to make a point of demanding this strangers attention...

...but with her mouth still agape after breathing in a lung's worth of air, Gwendolyn was left speechless yet again. Only now it was by this intruder's complete abandonment of their conversation as she merrily jaunted over towards her flummoxed publicist who had, up until this point, been content with playing the careful observer. At times repressing a snicker or two at the outlandish scenario unfolding before her eyes before suddenly becoming a part of the act. The publicist taking the clipboard before being taken aback by the delivery girl's unorthodox manner of presenting her with a pen, which she sheepishly plucked out from Kimiko's backside denim pocket before clicking down on it's top...and than handing both the pen and the clipboard over to the real Gwendolyn. Who by than had marched beside her assistant and snatched both up with a haughty harrumph. Clearing her throat once more for Take Two.

"...*AHEM*...I...am Gwendolyn Dupont Bettencourt. Now...given what I assumed was a back-breakingly laborious day of performing such fascinating undertaking's that fit a lady of your vast intellect...such as lifting things up, and putting them down...I will see fit as to excuse your baffling lapse in sane judgment and memory recall as simply the delusions of an exasperated mind from a menial, working stiff commoner. However now that you've..."indulged" yourself in mine luxurious abode...certainly you recognize me now for the grappling paragon, heiress to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, and refined lady of exalted elegance that I am~..." Gwendolyn smugly inquired with a glamorous flick of her golden ringlets with a hand on her hip, firmly expecting the fawning praise and adulation as befitting a lady of her prestige.

The pen slipped out easily enough, left just where she had thought it was. If anything, the fact she had been sitting on it this whole time in relative comfort was a true testament to just how fabulous the couch had been. It certainly was softer than any chair she owned… maybe even her bed. Kimiko's eyes drifted skyward, taking a moment to imagine taking a nap stretched out among those cushions. Her lips pulled into a wide content smile as she made a soft thoughtful sound.

The clearing of throats brought her back with an abrupt start, looking between the two before her with a look of befuddlement as the clipboard wasn't where she last left it. This was enough to give Gwendolyn a slant eyed look with pursed lips, gears turning within her head slowly as she tried to uncover this mystery as to why the blond maid had taken hold of the paperwork.

The brunette silently mouthed Gwendolyn's name, thinking out how it was pronounced. She looked to the woman before her and the package that had a computerized printout of the British woman's name. Kimiko tilted her head at the illegible printout… she then turned the package over so the text wasn't upside down. Huh… how about that. It was Gwendolyn… something something. It checked out.

"It was a pretty busy day, but don't you worry about my back. I'm plenty strong." Kimiko straightened up, getting to her arm to give it a little flex. Sure enough, she seemed to have a bit of muscle that didn't come across at a first glance. "Moving stuff is the easy part. Managing all the receipts and stuff is the hard part. All the math and such. It's nice to have someone recognize how tough running a private business is. It takes a whole lot of know-how." Kimiko lifted her head with a proud grin, adjusting the bill of her baseball cap to prominently display her business logo again.

Kimiko kept her smile going strong, nodding along with what Gwendolyn was saying but in truth she got lost in what she was talking about almost immediately. Something about illusions and being stiff? This girl sure did talk a lot… but she sounded like she knew what she was talking about, like a scientist or something. "If you are stiff, people tell me I give good shoulder rubs. That should put us Even Steven for the food."

The brunette was left blinking at the blond when she finally finished up. She stared, hard… slowly leaning in closer to get a much better look at Gwendolyn. "These aren't real… Are these real?" She spoke like a giddy school girl, reaching out to try and pinch the tip of one of the British woman's gigantic curls, tugging at it like a curious child grabbing hold of Santa's beard.

Gwendolyn had come across this..."delayed" form of reaction before. Notably when arriving unannounced to an elegant soiree or some such high-class gala affair, those in attendance parting their lips from their bubbling champagne glasses to balk in a jarring double-take from noticing who just so happened to come pridefully strutting onto the scene. The incandescent glow emanating from her vast, luminous celebritas sometimes blinds others into second-guessing themselves as to whom they just so happened to spot across a thriving ballroom, or just so happen to be conversing with at this very moment. Such was assuredly the case with the dim-witted delivery girl currently straining her paltry I.Q. into comprehending the current situation she stumbled herself into. Speaking with and standing opposite to a social dignitary of the highest class and grappling exemplar with two championship title reig-

*tug*

Gwendolyn's eyes popped open from their lidded state to dilated confusion, peeking down and to the side where she felt a faint tugging. Her state of smug satisfaction shattering into a million little pieces when she spied the auburn-haired stranger yanking...on one of her...golden...ringlets. Experiencing her own instance of stalled acknowledgment, the spoiled blue-blood dawning a fresh hue of crimson red upon her porcelain complexion before her folded arms shivered in restrained outrage before they exploded outward and frantically slapped at this persons hand!!! A furious flailing of her gloved hands swiping at the vacant foot of space between them while nicking Kimiko at certain points before Gwendolyn ceased her spastic thrashing with a teeth-gnashing glower. "OF COURSE THEY'RE BLOODY REAL!!!! ARE YOU TRULY SO INDISPUTABLY DENSE AS TO NOT KNOW WHO I-!!!...wait..." Gwendolyn paused her enraged tirade to squint at Kimiko's hat before swiftly swiping it off of her head...

...the heiress analyzing it shrewdly, in particular the delivery logo Kimiko made a point of emphasizing earlier. Recognizing this subpar bit of advertising artwork from somewhere...until she connected the dots thanks to a brief bit of memory recollection. "This is the same infernal logo on the bicycle occupying MY parking spot...which I ASSUME belongs to YOU." Gwendolyn cobbled together like the sleuth she was, flinging the baseball cap back at Kimiko's face towards the end of her brilliant deduction. "You, my friend, have done a remarkable job of earning my ire in absolutely record time. Testing the patience of a refined lady of my prestige and former two time AFW champion is quite the bold gambit,...Ms.-" Gwendolyn spared a fleeting glance at the name tag clipped upon the left lapel of the delivery girl's jacket. "-Kimiko Danzaki." Gwendolyn pronouncing her name with emphatic vitriol, gloved hands primly propped on her hips.

Kimiko hovered into Gwendolyn's personal space, transfixed by her lavish good curls. Pinching the tips of the other woman's hair it was a no brainer for her to test out their elasticity. Her lips pursed and eyes lit up brightly as she let the girl go only to have it spring back into place. The look of childlike goes was apparent by her expression, as was her intention to try again as she reached for another curl.

"Ow." The brunette instinctively blurted out as her hand was slapped, even if it hadn't really hurt her. She glanced up to see the flustered blond briefly before leaning away from a flurry of batting stipes that pelted the brim of her hat, outstretched hand and even her chest before getting enough distance to just watch with confusion at the last spastic flails die out.

"They're blond." Kimiko absentmindedly corrected as she appraised her delivery recipient's mane of hair which shared no real traits that made it seem bloody to her. Clearly there was some confusion here. Her own face scratched up a bit as she was called dense, not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Surely being dense wasn't really a bad thing, right? Being dense would make her more resilient in a fight. She made a soft thoughtful sound as she unpacked the mysteries of the statement directed at her.

"Oh? Yeah, my work vehicle has my logo on it. I made it myself... The logo, not the bike. Well, I assembled the bike." She nodded an affirmative when questioned, though the confused look returned shortly after. The young woman reached up to comb back her disheveled hair as Gwendolyn admired her hat up close. "I think you are confused. Why would I own your parking spot. Wouldn't that just make it my parking spot? I am pretty sure I don't have one of those… but maybe I do. I didn't actually read my full contract. It was really long and wor-"

The brunette flinched as she was smacked with her own cap, fumbling to catch it with her clipboard before it fell to the ground in a panic as if the simple hat was some manner of fragile relic. Once it was still, she cupped a hand over the top of it and began carefully affixing it again.

"Oh, I don't really do audits, so this wasn't a test. Sorry if it came across like that because of the questions… and the hair." She found herself slowly reaching to give those girls another tug before stopping herself, not because of willpower but because of something this weird woman said. "Oh, wow, you used to be a champion here? I never would have guessed that… you don't really look very tough though, do you. I guess that's why this place is so special, everyone has a place here, haha! It's great."

"Yep, that's me." She puffed her chest out a bit more towards Gwendolyn, giving her an easy eyeful to read her name tag all she'd like. "Good pronunciation for a non-native! You said it right the first time… oh! Hey, if you don't mind me asking, who beat you up to become the new champions? It might be good practice if I go ask them to fight me. I haven't gotten a whole lot of work here just yet and could use some more."

Whatever puzzle pieces were scrambled about this day had gradually began to become affixed into their proper place as Gwendolyn began ascertaining more and more information from this fountain of wisdom that had seemingly run dry years ago. The bigger picture began being brought into light until finally all the pieces had been slotted inside, and the depths to this thoughtless dullard's sheer ignorance was officially realized. Astonishing to behold, but nevertheless aggravating as this delivery-woman had stolen Gwendolyn's private parking spot, barged into her private dressing room, gorged herself upon the heiress' lunch, tugged on her golden ringlets, and as the most unforgivable sin of them all, had the unmitigated gall to not know who Gwendolyn was!!! The spoiled blue-blood not knowing which transgression to concentrate on first as they all seemed to meld together in her blinding fit of outrage, Gwendolyn folding her arms whilst feverishly tapping her index finger on her other bicep. The pace amping up the more Kimiko blathered on with pure-minded innocence and vacant-headed emptiness...

"...don't look very tough...who beat me and took my championship, you ask..." Gwendolyn quoted with a spastic twitch to her left eye and slanted angle to her neck, grimacing menacingly with a darkened aura encompassing the heiress and causing her mindful assistant to backpedal a step so as not to be corrupted by it's negativity. Although after a prim and proper hum of her lips, the noblewoman seemingly repelled all of that menacing maliciousness with a light of pure sunshine and a smile that reflected it. "Oh...you are a delightfully special case, aren't you Madam Danzaki? Please take my sincere apologies for the deplorable rudeness upon which I subjected you to this day. Whatsay we star this conversation anew, so as to ensure we become the dearest of friends~..." Gwendolyn innocently uttered with her cheek resting against her gloved hands folded together. "The opponent's to which you speak of would assuredly be indisposed for the foreseeable future unfortunately...However~, MY schedule has just opened up dramatically. Perhaps you could do me the honor of engaging in a spar of our own in the meantime, after which I will assuredly sign for your package. My assistant can guide you the way to the ring, I shan't be more than few moments~..." A wafting hand towards the door reveals the assistant standing beside it, bowing to Kimiko and ready to do as Gwen dictated.

"Yep, that's definitely what I asked." Kimiko nodded firmly in the affirmative, staring with excited anticipation for Gwendolyn to provide the proper information. When all she got was uncomfortable dead air, it left her blinking with a confused look plastered on her face. She peered over the blond's shoulder at their assistant who seem to be shaky legged. Without much though she tossed a thumb over her shoulder towards the couch. "You look low on energy, maybe you should eat something."

"Oh. Well thanks for the compliment. Just Kimiko is fine though. While I am here on official business, I like to keep things casual. It helps build a good rapport." The irony of her current position in Gwendolyn's eyes seemed lost on her like many of the socialite's wit and overtly sorry jabs. The brunette was a simple girl who had her own round about ways in which logic and the world revolved. She looked all for the prospect of making more friends though.

"That's a bummer. You had me excited there to fight some real champions…" Kimiko visibly perked when Gwendolyn offered for the two of them to spar though. Even without the signature being held hostage, she wasn't really one to turn down a good scuffle. Even if it wasn't with the best of the best, sometimes you could find the best bouts in unexpected places… like fancy side rooms in sweaty arenas! Once the initial glow of the idea had passed, she eyed the blond curiously.

"You aren't going to wrestle in this, right?" The brunette gave a small laugh, reaching down to prod at the royal blue skirts gathered around Gwendolyn's legs to give  them a fluff. The waiting assistant quietly coughed to catch Kimiko's attention, catching a glance from the brawler. After looking between the two women she nodded with sudden understanding.

"Right, you have to change." With a wide grin Kimiko scooped up the package under one arm and set the clipboard on top of it. While she didn't mind a small deviation in her use of self employed company time, she couldn't in good conscience leave her package out of her sight before it was signed for. She started to leave, then backpedaled into the room to grab the small glass bottle of mineral water she had found inside the dressing room. She had already been drinking from it so it didn't seem right to leave it behind with her germs on it.