Something Spicy

Of all the women Lyla had to run into, it just had to be Maria Crawford, didn’t it?

As the lass was no doubt picking up, the two of them weren’t exactly friends, and hadn’t really gotten along that well from minute one. It was Thorn’s fault, really, she could admit that - she had a problem with annoying, self-absorbed Brits with glasses, and Maria was an annoying, self-absorbed Brit with glasses. It couldn’t really be helped, and she was willing to bet Lyla suffered from the same problems.

There was a lot of fuckup potential, here, so Thorn counted herself lucky that things seemed to be settling to a reasonable level, before things got out of-

And Lyla just punched Maria in the face. Oh, well.

The blow landed squarely on the Angel’s face, shooting it back and sending her spectacles flying off into the crowd. All at once, the room descended into complete chaos. Shrieks of surprise, screams of supports, calls for the bouncers to intervene, which they would...though she couldn’t be sure it was in time. Maria’s slaves were already rushing at Lyla from the side, no doubt looking to dogpile on her before she had the chance to retaliate. They would only get halfway, however, before Thorn would charge in, ram her shoulder into the guy and send him flying his partner, knocking them both to the floor. She turned Lyla, just long enough to give her a ‘Seriously?’ glare, before switching back to a ranting and raving Maria.

”-stupid, skinny little bitch!” She spat off to the side as she finished rubbing her face. Security was busy keeping the crowd at bay, but they were wisely given the three of them a wide berth, likely not knowing whether or not this was just some kind of roleplay they hadn’t been told about. Wouldn’t be the first time. ”Move! I’m breaking her, right here and now. And you two.” She squinted towards her slaves. ”Find my goddamn glasses!”

In the best of days, those sober ones, things might have been different. As things stood right now, most of that logical shit was out the window. Maybe Maria had a history in the business, adorned with accolades and barn burning matches under her belt that would make her a force to be reckoned with. All the Irish woman knew was she had never heard of her or saw any of that so it obviously didn't count for anything. The only thing that mattered was there was this leather clad librarian who, even in heels, wasn't taller than her trying to act big and mighty. She wasn't generally someone who took well to being ordered in the best of circumstances so when it came to people she didn't like, boy was she never going to behave well.

If anything, having Thorn here now was only more reason to let loose. It wasn't exactly fair to the Australian woman to snap out at Maria as she had, but Lyla was unmistakably a bit selfish when it came to doing as she pleased which was more than event the more time the two women spent together. So when she sucker punched the purple haired woman in the face there was no real doubt in her mind she had done the right thing. Unapologetic grinning ear to ear as her glasses went spiraling off into the gathered crowd. Her focus had been so locked on Crawford that when she saw the slaves charging she was caught wide eyed and unprepared, about to take the full brunt of whatever they had for her.

"Pfft-haha!" Thorn to the rescue however. Lyla sputtered out a laugh that exploded from her mouth unintentionally, though it petered off when the Aussie shot her a look. All she could do was give an innocent smile and a big shrug as if she hadn't had a choice in the matter. It wasn't like she had been the one to make Maria so punchable after all. Though the moment Thorn's back was to her again, she leaned out around the giant woman to stick her tongue out at the ranting Maria like a child, flicking her the bird with her bloodied hand.

"I'm under contract with AFW so... You'll have to take that up with management. I wasn't signed up for a charity match for the old folks home career revival fund." Thorn was her aegis, a tower shield that no doubt would give Maria second and third thoughts about even attempting to reach Lyla regardless of how upset she might be. The Irish lass seemed to understand this well enough, milking every bit of free time she had to take pot shots at the one time Wrestle Angel. "Besides. Don't you have some dogs to pick up after? I think that one made a mess." She waggled a finger in the direction of the man Thorn sent soaring moments earlier.

Rose didn’t skimp when it came to security, hiring the best and bulkiest they could afford on the dungeon’s budget. It was a necessity for a place like this, one that regularly delved into fantasy. Hardly a night passed where someone didn’t try and take their play a little too far, got too wrapped up in things or pushed them past the clear boundaries. Their people had to move fast and with a purpose, and that was what they did now, working to keep the crowd clear and stop any interference.

They gave Thorn a wide berth, though, and that extended to Lyla. Probably what the nymph was counting on, too. Tricky thing.

She took a quick look back at the Irish Lass before focusing back on Maria, who was chomping at the bit to get in. The woman was a lot of talk in a small package, but she could wrestle worth a damn. All the same, she wasn’t about to take them both on at once, which left her in a position to stay there like a yapping dog.

Maria sneered as her slaves fumbled about, groaning as she sideyed theme. ”Get up.” She hissed their way, before returning her full attention to Lyla. ”I’ll happily call the AFW and get things set up myself, you little brat. We can go tonight, right here - they liked this ogre fucking you over enough, they’ll pay top dollar for me.”

Thorn gave Maria a quick middle finger, content to leave that little jab by itself for the time being. Looking over her shoulder, she shrugged Lyla’s way. ”Up to you. Maybe put some stakes on it?”

Tonight was a night of terrible choices. It tended to happen that way when Lyla got drinking, losing any semblance of a filter and throwing caution to the wind. So what if she was still tipsy? Who cared that her hand looked like a cut of raw meat. Someone was talking shit so that couldn't fly. When the voice of reason in Thorn gave her the choice in how to respond, it had opened the floor gate to making this night further spiral out of control. "In the club. On the street. In the bed. Wherever you want it, I got it for you right here." Lyla clapped a hand on her crotch, giving her hips a hard disrespectful thrust in the direction of Maria.

"Call up whoever you want honey. When we are done business is going to be booming. People lining up around the block to outwrestle a washed up Wrestle Angel and make her tap just like that crazy Irish bitch on the TV did."  Hungry, thirsty, beaten, and very much boozed up, it was almost impressive how much trash she could talk while looking like absolute hell. Stepping out from behind Thorn, the pink haired woman. Sauntered casually up to the other woman, throwing her arms wide to dare her to attack. She was almost certain she wouldn't dare. Not here. Not with Thorn able to pounce. Until things were official it was likely open house on shit talk.

Ellie was going to be livid when she found all of this out… it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission though. Her tag partner would get over it, eventually. Maybe.

Maria stood, hands on hips, nose upturned, as Lyla approached, getting in her face. She was about to respond when she caught a good whiff of the woman’s breath, still reeking of whatever she’d been drinking that night, and her face blanched at the stench. Hissing, she stepped back and turned her head to side in disgust. ”Bog Irish trash. Ugh.” She waved her hand through the air, clearing it to her satisfaction before she spoke again. ”I’ve made hundreds of little sluts like you squeal in my time. You won’t be any different.”

Her slaves came over close and she promptly took their leashes, pulling them both in line. Content to leave things at that for now, she started to swish her way out of the scene, with the bouncers clearing a path as she made her way to through the crowd.

Thorn sighed and ran a hand through her hair as the Wrestle Angel stormed off, before turning her attention back to Lyla - more specifically, she was focused on the still-raw hand of hers. It didn’t seem like it was about to fall off or anything, but no surprise, it hadn’t miraculously healed in the few minutes they’d been apart. Velma was waiting nearby, her brow furrowed, shaking her head at the whole thing.

”Come on.” She came up behind Lyla and gave her a quick thwip on the butt with her finger, poking her towards the back once more. ”Let’s get you patched up before you go off breaking something new.”

"Nobody gives two shits about what you did when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, Maria." Lyla responded with a roll of her eyes, turning half way around to display her backside to the self titled goddess. The Irish girl gave her own backside a taunting wiggle before walking back towards Thorn. "Besides, there is only one slut like Lyla Moore and she is going to kick your arse...that's my name by the way. I'm Lyla Moore." She felt the need to clarify, looking around at the soon to be dispersing crowd. The alcohol wasn't helping her wits at all with snappy comebacks.

Standing by side Thorn, she watched Maria waltz off with slaves in tow. After a long pause between them, she spoke up somewhat softly. "I think I had too much to drink." An astute observation only now realized by the young Irish lass as she found herself admiring Maria's shapely leather clad backside as she sashayed away. There wasn't a world where a sober Lyla would want to get with someone like Maria, but after a few drinks her filter was off of more than just her mouth.

She jumped at the thwhip of her backside, letting out a small purr as she looked to Thorn as if she would absolutely scandalous. With a sway of her body she jumped her hip into the side of the larger woman's leg, whirling about to head to the back. "Break things? Me? Never. Unless you are volunteering? Hmmmm?" Lyla leaned herself into the Aussie as they walked, battering her eyes up at her hostess innocently.

”You ate my meatballs! A sentence Thorn never expected to say.

After wrapping things up with the bouncers and dealing with Lyla’s puppy dog eyes, the trio had retreated back to Thorn’s dressing room, stuffing themselves into the hovel so Velma could give Lyla the look over. The nurse-turned-playnurse didn’t seem to enjoy moving back into her old occupation, but that didn’t mean she was good at it, tending to Irishwoman’s injury with a gentle hand. When Lyla had made the astute observation that she was drunk, Thorn replied with a hearty ‘NO SHIT’, but that drunkenness was probably helping her cope with the pain. Once it started to wear off…

That wasn’t Thorn’s concern at the moment. Lyla was tough, Velma was good enough to patch her up, everything would come up roses. No, the thing that was currently stuck in her craw was how she went into the fridge, took a nibble on her sandwich, and discovered her meatball sub was suspiciously devoid of meatballs.

She stood with the eunuch sub in head, glaring down at Lyla for a moment before she tossed it on a nearby table and plopped down on her chair. ”Fucking hell, how does Ellie deal with you 24/7? You’re a handful and a half.”

Lyla didn't take well to being babied, but her behavior tonight hadn't given her much in the way of bargaining power for protesting. So Velma had taken the lead on washing her hand clean to the point it resembled a normal human limb again. Despite how terrible it had looked, it boiled down to two split knuckles and some deep scratches, not nearly as serious as it seemed at first. The worst part had been the dabbed cotton swab of antiseptic. It stung like a bitch, which she was quick to comment on but slow to get sympathy from her impromptu doctor or her stand in friend. Life was tough like that.

"Velma, how could you?" Lyla deflected the accusation levied her way with a casual air of ignorance and got an extra tight loop of wrapping around her knuckles that made her wince from Velma. "Ow." She took it like a champ, looking over to Thorn just as she slapped the limp hoagie roll down on the table. It was hard to keep from laughing at the sad empty sandwich. It looked more like a crusty pair of socks stacked on top of one another than a midnight snatch from a doggie bag.

"Your first mistake was assuming I can be dealt with at all." Lyla's eyes returned to Velma as she finished up the wrapping with a bit of medical take and a thin pair of scissors. With fingers splayed wide, she offered the Irish woman her hand back who took it happily and started flexing her fingers to test how it felt. Sore. Tight. But her fingertips weren't turning black and blue so it must have been set up good enough. She flashed Velma a wink and gestured with her fingers the universal sign for a phone beside her ear mouthing the words "call me" in shameless fashion. A roll of the eyes was good enough for now as a response. She could work on Velma more later.

"You have big hands. You sure about that? You didn't have any issue fitting me in them last I checked. You sure as shit weren't complaining about it then either." Lyla kicked one leg up and over the other in what seemed as though was supposed to be a scandalous flash of her crotch at Thorn… perhaps she had forgotten she was wearing stockings and shorts. "So… this Maria lady. Is she actually good? On a scale of one to ten how much did I screw the pooch?"

”Not complaining.” Thorn pulled out a chair from the closet and popped it open, promptly sitting down and stretching out as much as the room would allow. She rolled her shoulders and got a few cracks out of it, audible pops from her bones and some pain to go with it. Definitely seeing somebody about that if it was still a problem in the morning. ”Just trying to keep up. And the Sharon Stone Switch only works if you’re not wearing anything down there. Nice try, though.”

”Very nice.” Velma nodded and started to put her tools away, likely preparing to store them in some dark corner of the dungeon where she hoped they’d never be seen again. She looked back over her shoulder, side-eying Thorn. ”And yes, Crawford is good. Good enough to beat Thorn.”

Thorn folded her arms and snorted. ”Bullshit”

”That’s what I heard.”

”You heard bullshit.” She leaned forward, planting her hands on her knees as she went into short story mode. ”Me and Rose, we’re just starting out, right? We hear Crawford is looking to break into the AFW, we heard about her, so we think she’s a natural fit, right? She was doing our thing before we did our thing. So she comes over and we hit it off, and we’ve got the start of a good little faction going on.”

Velma snickered, a soft sniffling sound. ”The Domme Nation.”

Thorn just stuck her tongue at her, the same way she did every time she laughed at that. ”It’s a fucking awesome name. Shut it.”

"Fuck you. I make it work." Lyla snorted, doubling down on the lie she had intended to "flash" Thorn the way she didn't and hadn't just forgotten she wasn't wearing a skirt… and had full stockings on. Listen. She had a lot to drink. She didn't let it phase her though, giving a casual wave of her good hand. It was all fun and games until Velma mentioned Maria could beat Thorn. That hit her like a sack of bricks.

"Wait, what?" Her eyes darted back and forth between the two women as they conversed, trying desperately to figure out if she majorly screwed up by boldly accepting a challenge from Maria. Like most things in her life, she hadn't put much thought into the choice. Ellie did the thinking. Lyla just… went. Normally in the direction she was pointed. It normally worked out.

"But she hasn't wrestled in awhile so she will be rusty, ri- that is a pretty awesome name…" So easily distracted. She shook her head, flapping her ponytail about wildly. Focus Lyla! "Okay so... Is this lady going to kick the shit out of me? Normally I am okay with that but for real, she is an insufferable cunt. I don't want her lording this over me."