35. Week Three: Leg to Stand On
Vesvius
The Wicked God
It's taken you almost a month to get back into Horizon Academy. You were ignored dozens of times, rejected twice as many times, and outright laughed at by your teacher on at least six occasions. But you did it. You finally did it. You don't know how you finally convinced Daybreak to listen to you, but you did. Nineteen days after your graduation, you're back in the familiar basement.
Your time away has only made you appreciate it more. The ring is well constructed, well maintained; compared to Duncan's ring, you might as well be bumping on a cloud. Daybreak's video library is immense; half of this stuff isn't even on DVD, let alone up online. The ceiling is higher than the average basement roof; it gives you plenty of space to practice your dives.
All in all Horizon really is a state-of-the-art facility. So why aren't you enjoying it more?
"Cower faster Martin! You can do better than that!"
Ah, yes. Your teacher.
You like Daybreak. You respect Daybreak. You might trust her more than absolutely any other authority figure you've ever had in your life. She's a good teacher and clearly loves her work, despite her hangups with the wrestler's lifestyle.
Which is actually part of the problem. When she had heard that you wanted to work on your selling all day her eyes had lit up like a kid on christmas morning. Daybreak had practically dragged you down to the basement, ignoring your protests that you hadn't wanted to bother her and just wanted to work on your own. Once the two of you were in the ring, she had had you stand in the center, muscles relaxed and ready to fall.
And then she'd slugged you as hard as she could in the gut. You'd gone down like a heap of bricks.
So went Daybreak's selling lesson. She'd hit you once and see how you reacted, and then stand you up and work a hit in the same area. If you didn't react the exact same way both times she decided it was a failure and went back to hitting you as hard as possible. You're pretty sure you're going to look like a gang worked over your stomach after this.
Daybreak throws another fist into your gut, and you fall to your knees, clasping your belly before you register that she didn't even touch you. She looks down at you with an approving nod before she reaches out and pokes your cheek. "Facials, Martin! If I've told you once, then I've told you enough times: it all comes down to your face. You wouldn't think I'd have to teach you that one more than once, what with your puppy dog eyes and everything."
You glare up at her and she chuckles slightly. "See? Right now you're going for 'I will kill you'. What I'm getting is 'Can you balance something on my nose please'. You need work."
By some god's mercy, Daybreak decides you've had enough for now and has mercy on you. You stagger to your feet and drop into a chair set up outside. Delilah hands you a cold bottle of water which you take with an appreciative nod. You don't drink any yet; you want to give your gut a chance to settle after the punishment it just went through. You just hold it to your head and let the icy sensation flood through you.
Daybreak does much the same, only soothing her knuckles. "After you're done refreshing yourself, we'll move on to limbs. You can only get so much out of working the body after all."
You want to protest, but you hold it in. Protesting might make Daybreak step it up a notch. Or worse, she might leave. You know how lucky you are right now; Daybreak's under no obligation to help you out like she is.
After a few moments you calm enough to take a sip of the water and open your eyes. Horizon looks different than before. Quieter. More peaceful. You can chalk that up to a lack of other people you guess. "Hey," you say. "When does class start up again?"
Daybreak lets out a long breath, blowing her hair away from her face. "First week of the new year." she answers. "Looking at a big group this time. Over thirty new scrubs who think they can handle it."
"That makes what, maybe fifteen grads?"
"If that. Your group had a couple more than I expected; I figured Leaver would wash out sometime around week six. So I'd say maybe ten from the new crop. Maybe four or five who'll be worth the time."
Daybreak looks you up and down. "Speaking of. We're not here to talk about my next batch of minions. How're you doing? Still with the other two stooges?"
You start to nod but freeze halfway through. "Wait. With them? How do you mean? Because the rest of the class had some weird ideas and-"
Your teacher just laughs at that. "Please. Like I'm that stupid. Would never happen."
Delilah looks up from the match she's watching to arch her eyebrow questioningly in a gesture clearly picked up from her mother. "What're you talkin about? Is this-"
"Go do your homework kid." Daybreak says without looking up.
"But it's winter vacation!"
"Then go do my homework. I hear that someone spilled juice on the hardwood and it needs to be shined!" Delilah grumbles, but does as ordered. The door slams shut behind her and Daybreak laughs softly. "God save me from giving the talk to an eight-year old."
You chuckle. "When are you planning on giving her the talk?"
"Never." Daybreak answers promptly. "I'll leave it all completely blank and let schoolyard gossip and public education take care of the rest. When she starts laughing at the hidden jokes in those cartoons of hers, I'll know the job's done. Anyway. We've changed the subject again. How goes the career?"
Despite her laid-back manner, Daybreak seems honestly interested. You launch into a recap of the last few weeks, sparing no details. Daybreak proves an attentive listener, asking questions where she needs to, howling at the state of Duncan's show, and being suitably outraged at Betamax's attitude.
When you get to the part where Allie got hurt, Daybreak doesn't fly off the handle like you half expect her to. She just sits in her chair, opening and closing one hand slowly while her nostrils flare. You pause while she collects herself and holds back her anger. When you're sure she's not going to scream, you explain, "It was a routine thing. An armdrag. I didn't see what happened, but she swears she bumped wrong on it, that she was trying something a little too flashy. Shoulder got separated, but nothing too bad. Doctor said she'd be ship shape in a couple weeks."
Daybreak slowly nods. "I figured she'd be the example. The ones who it comes naturally to normally are."
You don't really have an answer to that. "It could've been worse." you lamely add.
Your teacher snorts. "Yeah. Still sucks though. Separated shoulders are no small potatoes. They hurt like a bitch, and getting one means you're more likely to do it again."
"Makes sense," you reply, taking another sip of your water. "She said she's had them before. That she just kind of popped it back in herself back then. She almost tore my head off when me and Jack dragged her to the ER."
That brings an honest laugh from Daybreak. "No surprise there. Gray's got more balls then sense. I had a friend like that back when I first got started."
"Oh?" you ask, leaning forward. Stories from Daybreak are always a treat, made all the more special by how reluctant she is to share them.
Daybreak either doesn't notice or doesn't care about your newfound attentiveness. Her gaze is far away as she reminisces. "Yeah. Back… has to be thirty years ago now. Shit, when did I get fucking old… but yeah. Thirty years ago. I was green as goose shit and was riding with a regular group of six. One tag, three singles guys, and one dude's girlfriend who wanted to be a manager. We were all awful- almost as bad as you are now, Martin."
...does she have to insult you even while she's reminiscing? You shrug and let it roll of your back. At this point it's just part of her 'charm'.
"The tag stuck together, and the dude and his girlfriend always rode in the back of the van doing god knows what; I tried to ignore it after the time I saw her doing lines off his abs. That left me with Faust." You wrack your brain, trying to recognize the name, but she shakes her head at your efforts. "Don't bother. You don't know him. But we were tight. Kinda like you and your musketeers there. Even got some of the same rumors- of course, we beat the fuck out of the guy who started those. They stopped after that."
"Faust was good. I liked to think that I was the Queen Shit of the ring back then but I couldn't hold a candle to what Faust could do. It wasn't about the moves; it was about the knowhow. Guys could do flips and dives and kiss a guy's mother in front of em, and they wouldn't get the reaction Rex would get by standing in the ring and reading the phonebook. That's not an exaggeration either; he once nearly caused a riot by reading the phonebook."
Daybreak's face is frozen in a half-smile as she sees something in the far-off past. "What happened?" you ask, dreading the answer. You can tell that this is not going to go anywhere pleasant.
Sure enough, the smile vanishes. "What else? He got hurt. We all got hurt and worked through it, but Rex was so giving in the ring that he took way more offense than the rest of us. He got knocked around and beaten so much; never took a day off, never missed a show. But…"
"But then he got retired. Forcibly. He got his bell rung good; was out of it for a good few minutes. His jackass opponent didn't want to stop and let him recover though. He wanted to hit all his moves. So he picked up Faust and gave him a leg whip; the fucker thought he was some kind of submission guru."
"Faust was still on dream street. He couldn't have bumped right if there had been a million bucks and an orgy in it for him. Snapped his femur and fibula in three places. The ref finally did his fuckng job after that and pulled him out. Got him to an ER thirty minutes later but they couldn't do anything. Rex lost his leg."
Oh. Shit.
Daybreak notices the look on your face and lets a crooked, sad little smile cross her features. "Yeah. Sucks. He was in good spirits about it though. We kept in contact as long as we could before life just kinda… happened. I try to keep tabs on him when I can; apparently he's selling real estate now. Doing a shitton better then I am. Apparently he makes a killing as 'The One Legged Man in the House Selling Contest'."
"Anyway." Daybreak says, slapping her legs. "I didn't mean to bring the mood down. Rex made it out okay, and he made out better than most. But remember. Having balls is good. But if you need to take a break, you take a fucking break. Pass that on."
"Now! You came here to train. You came to work on your selling! And this whole thing's given me an idea! So finish your drink, get your ass back in the ring, and I'll-"
***
"-kicked me in the balls!" You yell to Allie a few hours later. "She just hauled off and kicked me in the balls! Wouldn't stop talking about how important it is to sell a good nutshot!"
Allie's not even bothering to hide her laughter. She's curled up in a ball on her bed, laughing so hard that the pieces on the board are shaking. As you watch, Professor Plum falls off of the Conservatory, on to the rug below. Allie doesn't pay it any attention. Tears are coming out of her eyes. "In her defense," she chokes out, "It's a very important thing!"
"I know!" You yell, waving your arms for emphasis. "I know how important it is to sell a nut shot! But I already know how! It's easy! Every man who's ever been hit in the balls knows how! So every man knows how! You drop! You clutch! You scream! It is not rocket science!"
"Do I want to know how you've gotten so much experience?" Allie gasps.
You glare at her. Somehow, you don't think she's taking this as seriously as you are. "I played goalie in grade school." You mutter. "Stopped a few goals that way."
Allie blinks the tears from her eyes and looks up at you. "Wow. Really? Fucking hardcore."
You flinch at the remembered pain. Even now, the sight of a soccer ball makes you shiver. Come to think of it, that might be why you stopped playing sports in fifth grade.
Small aftershocks of laughter ripple through Allie as she tries to get it back under control. With a wounded dignity, you stick your nose in the air away from her mirth and stare at your Clue sheet. Hm. You think you've got it actually. The last laugh will be yours!
"Mrs. White in the Kitchen with the wrench." you say.
Allie freezes and shuffles through her cards. "I… I can't disprove." she grates out. Triumphantly, you pull open the case file and take out the three cards within. Mrs. White in her maid getup greets you, followed by the cold tile of the Kitchen card, and the small card-shaped piece of paper you cut out to replace the missing wrench card. Victory!
"I don't know how... " Allie grates out, laughter forgotten. "But you're cheating. I know you're cheating. No one can win six in a row. I just have to prove it."
"Mhm." you agree, leaving back as you bask in your victory. "My methods are a bit out there, but I hope you can understand them- it's called "basic deduction". In it, I-" A thrown pillow cuts of your victory monologue.
After the ensuing pillow fight, you're on the floor, game forgotten. Allie's laying with her head on your leg. "Fucking cheater." she groans out. "Think I pulled something."
Your victory afterglow is gone just as quick as Allie's laughter was. "Shit." you bite out. "You alright? Is it your shoulder? I-"
Allie snorts. "I'm fine, really. I just fell on my leg. My arm is just fine. See?" She moves the shoulder in question, rotating it around. You grab it before it can do more than twitch.
"I believe you." You say hastily. "No need to prove it."
Your friend looks up at you, her light blue eyes meeting your own. "Seriously, T, I'm fine." she gently stretches. "It wasn't even bad enough for them to prescribe me the hard stuff. I barely feel it right now."
You breathe out deeply, letting your worry flow out of you. You know you've been hovering a bit; maybe you've been letting it get a bit out of hand. "Alright," you relent. "Good."
Allie nods once, decisively, and you get the feeling that some kind of decision's just been made. "You gonna stop being a little nursemaid?" she asks. At your reluctant nod, she smile and claps once. "Perfect! So let's talk about our show."
"Our show?" you ask slowly.
"Yeah. Booking in a day or two." She goes on. "Kid's party? We're wrestling? Wrestling is a thing we do to try and make money but fail at? Ringing any bells here?"
You try and choose your words carefully. "I hadn't thought you were coming."
She snorts. "Well, I am. It'll take more than this-" she shrugs her shoulder. "-to keep me out of action. I barely got to do anything last time! Time to make up for lost time."
You're too busy trying to figure out the sudden turn this conversation's taken to interrupt her, so she goes on. "I talked with the mom who's setting all this up. She seems like a really nice woman- strange though. Who decides to have a two-match card for her kid's party? Really, who does that? But that's not important."
"What is important is that there's only going to be maybe six workers there. She wants one tag and one singles match. Nothing extreme. Maybe fifteen minutes each, and then we hang around and make nice with kids for an hour or two. I'm just trying to figure out what to do."
It slowly begins to dawn on you that she's planning on wrestling with a hurt shoulder. What's worse, you don't think you'll be able to stop her. Allie goes on, heedless of your thoughts. "We're not going to be able to trio up like normal. One of us is going to get the singles, and the other two will wind up in the tag. Any idea?"
Well. Allie's a wrestler, and you knew there was going to come a time when you'd see or be someone that worked hurt. You know you'd be chomping at the bit to get back in there if it was you. But Daybreak's story is still bouncing around in your head, a story about a man who worked hurt too often and paid for it.
Allie's looking at you with an expectant look on her face. She's waiting for an answer.
[] Allie can take care of herself. More then that, she needs the experience. You and Jack will take the tag match, and Allie will work the single.
[] Not only can Allie take care of herself, this is an oppertunity. She and Jack haven't really been gelling and this is the perfect opportunity to both get some singles experience and let them work on it. You'll take the singles, and Allie and Jack will work the tag.
[] You trust Allie to know her own body, but you'd feel better if you were there. Plus, you like working tag matches. It's fun! You and Allie will take the tag, and Jack will work the single.
[] Maybe you can convince her to wait a little more? The doctor did say wait two weeks to prevent further damage, and it'll barely have been one when you go to the party. Try and convince Allie to work as a manager for you and maybe Jack. You'll both get singles. (Requires DC60 Charisma check. If passed, Allie sees the sense in your idea. If failed, Allie takes the single, and your relationship will be damaged.)
Your time away has only made you appreciate it more. The ring is well constructed, well maintained; compared to Duncan's ring, you might as well be bumping on a cloud. Daybreak's video library is immense; half of this stuff isn't even on DVD, let alone up online. The ceiling is higher than the average basement roof; it gives you plenty of space to practice your dives.
All in all Horizon really is a state-of-the-art facility. So why aren't you enjoying it more?
"Cower faster Martin! You can do better than that!"
Ah, yes. Your teacher.
You like Daybreak. You respect Daybreak. You might trust her more than absolutely any other authority figure you've ever had in your life. She's a good teacher and clearly loves her work, despite her hangups with the wrestler's lifestyle.
Which is actually part of the problem. When she had heard that you wanted to work on your selling all day her eyes had lit up like a kid on christmas morning. Daybreak had practically dragged you down to the basement, ignoring your protests that you hadn't wanted to bother her and just wanted to work on your own. Once the two of you were in the ring, she had had you stand in the center, muscles relaxed and ready to fall.
And then she'd slugged you as hard as she could in the gut. You'd gone down like a heap of bricks.
So went Daybreak's selling lesson. She'd hit you once and see how you reacted, and then stand you up and work a hit in the same area. If you didn't react the exact same way both times she decided it was a failure and went back to hitting you as hard as possible. You're pretty sure you're going to look like a gang worked over your stomach after this.
Daybreak throws another fist into your gut, and you fall to your knees, clasping your belly before you register that she didn't even touch you. She looks down at you with an approving nod before she reaches out and pokes your cheek. "Facials, Martin! If I've told you once, then I've told you enough times: it all comes down to your face. You wouldn't think I'd have to teach you that one more than once, what with your puppy dog eyes and everything."
You glare up at her and she chuckles slightly. "See? Right now you're going for 'I will kill you'. What I'm getting is 'Can you balance something on my nose please'. You need work."
By some god's mercy, Daybreak decides you've had enough for now and has mercy on you. You stagger to your feet and drop into a chair set up outside. Delilah hands you a cold bottle of water which you take with an appreciative nod. You don't drink any yet; you want to give your gut a chance to settle after the punishment it just went through. You just hold it to your head and let the icy sensation flood through you.
Daybreak does much the same, only soothing her knuckles. "After you're done refreshing yourself, we'll move on to limbs. You can only get so much out of working the body after all."
You want to protest, but you hold it in. Protesting might make Daybreak step it up a notch. Or worse, she might leave. You know how lucky you are right now; Daybreak's under no obligation to help you out like she is.
After a few moments you calm enough to take a sip of the water and open your eyes. Horizon looks different than before. Quieter. More peaceful. You can chalk that up to a lack of other people you guess. "Hey," you say. "When does class start up again?"
Daybreak lets out a long breath, blowing her hair away from her face. "First week of the new year." she answers. "Looking at a big group this time. Over thirty new scrubs who think they can handle it."
"That makes what, maybe fifteen grads?"
"If that. Your group had a couple more than I expected; I figured Leaver would wash out sometime around week six. So I'd say maybe ten from the new crop. Maybe four or five who'll be worth the time."
Daybreak looks you up and down. "Speaking of. We're not here to talk about my next batch of minions. How're you doing? Still with the other two stooges?"
You start to nod but freeze halfway through. "Wait. With them? How do you mean? Because the rest of the class had some weird ideas and-"
Your teacher just laughs at that. "Please. Like I'm that stupid. Would never happen."
Delilah looks up from the match she's watching to arch her eyebrow questioningly in a gesture clearly picked up from her mother. "What're you talkin about? Is this-"
"Go do your homework kid." Daybreak says without looking up.
"But it's winter vacation!"
"Then go do my homework. I hear that someone spilled juice on the hardwood and it needs to be shined!" Delilah grumbles, but does as ordered. The door slams shut behind her and Daybreak laughs softly. "God save me from giving the talk to an eight-year old."
You chuckle. "When are you planning on giving her the talk?"
"Never." Daybreak answers promptly. "I'll leave it all completely blank and let schoolyard gossip and public education take care of the rest. When she starts laughing at the hidden jokes in those cartoons of hers, I'll know the job's done. Anyway. We've changed the subject again. How goes the career?"
Despite her laid-back manner, Daybreak seems honestly interested. You launch into a recap of the last few weeks, sparing no details. Daybreak proves an attentive listener, asking questions where she needs to, howling at the state of Duncan's show, and being suitably outraged at Betamax's attitude.
When you get to the part where Allie got hurt, Daybreak doesn't fly off the handle like you half expect her to. She just sits in her chair, opening and closing one hand slowly while her nostrils flare. You pause while she collects herself and holds back her anger. When you're sure she's not going to scream, you explain, "It was a routine thing. An armdrag. I didn't see what happened, but she swears she bumped wrong on it, that she was trying something a little too flashy. Shoulder got separated, but nothing too bad. Doctor said she'd be ship shape in a couple weeks."
Daybreak slowly nods. "I figured she'd be the example. The ones who it comes naturally to normally are."
You don't really have an answer to that. "It could've been worse." you lamely add.
Your teacher snorts. "Yeah. Still sucks though. Separated shoulders are no small potatoes. They hurt like a bitch, and getting one means you're more likely to do it again."
"Makes sense," you reply, taking another sip of your water. "She said she's had them before. That she just kind of popped it back in herself back then. She almost tore my head off when me and Jack dragged her to the ER."
That brings an honest laugh from Daybreak. "No surprise there. Gray's got more balls then sense. I had a friend like that back when I first got started."
"Oh?" you ask, leaning forward. Stories from Daybreak are always a treat, made all the more special by how reluctant she is to share them.
Daybreak either doesn't notice or doesn't care about your newfound attentiveness. Her gaze is far away as she reminisces. "Yeah. Back… has to be thirty years ago now. Shit, when did I get fucking old… but yeah. Thirty years ago. I was green as goose shit and was riding with a regular group of six. One tag, three singles guys, and one dude's girlfriend who wanted to be a manager. We were all awful- almost as bad as you are now, Martin."
...does she have to insult you even while she's reminiscing? You shrug and let it roll of your back. At this point it's just part of her 'charm'.
"The tag stuck together, and the dude and his girlfriend always rode in the back of the van doing god knows what; I tried to ignore it after the time I saw her doing lines off his abs. That left me with Faust." You wrack your brain, trying to recognize the name, but she shakes her head at your efforts. "Don't bother. You don't know him. But we were tight. Kinda like you and your musketeers there. Even got some of the same rumors- of course, we beat the fuck out of the guy who started those. They stopped after that."
"Faust was good. I liked to think that I was the Queen Shit of the ring back then but I couldn't hold a candle to what Faust could do. It wasn't about the moves; it was about the knowhow. Guys could do flips and dives and kiss a guy's mother in front of em, and they wouldn't get the reaction Rex would get by standing in the ring and reading the phonebook. That's not an exaggeration either; he once nearly caused a riot by reading the phonebook."
Daybreak's face is frozen in a half-smile as she sees something in the far-off past. "What happened?" you ask, dreading the answer. You can tell that this is not going to go anywhere pleasant.
Sure enough, the smile vanishes. "What else? He got hurt. We all got hurt and worked through it, but Rex was so giving in the ring that he took way more offense than the rest of us. He got knocked around and beaten so much; never took a day off, never missed a show. But…"
"But then he got retired. Forcibly. He got his bell rung good; was out of it for a good few minutes. His jackass opponent didn't want to stop and let him recover though. He wanted to hit all his moves. So he picked up Faust and gave him a leg whip; the fucker thought he was some kind of submission guru."
"Faust was still on dream street. He couldn't have bumped right if there had been a million bucks and an orgy in it for him. Snapped his femur and fibula in three places. The ref finally did his fuckng job after that and pulled him out. Got him to an ER thirty minutes later but they couldn't do anything. Rex lost his leg."
Oh. Shit.
Daybreak notices the look on your face and lets a crooked, sad little smile cross her features. "Yeah. Sucks. He was in good spirits about it though. We kept in contact as long as we could before life just kinda… happened. I try to keep tabs on him when I can; apparently he's selling real estate now. Doing a shitton better then I am. Apparently he makes a killing as 'The One Legged Man in the House Selling Contest'."
"Anyway." Daybreak says, slapping her legs. "I didn't mean to bring the mood down. Rex made it out okay, and he made out better than most. But remember. Having balls is good. But if you need to take a break, you take a fucking break. Pass that on."
"Now! You came here to train. You came to work on your selling! And this whole thing's given me an idea! So finish your drink, get your ass back in the ring, and I'll-"
***
"-kicked me in the balls!" You yell to Allie a few hours later. "She just hauled off and kicked me in the balls! Wouldn't stop talking about how important it is to sell a good nutshot!"
Allie's not even bothering to hide her laughter. She's curled up in a ball on her bed, laughing so hard that the pieces on the board are shaking. As you watch, Professor Plum falls off of the Conservatory, on to the rug below. Allie doesn't pay it any attention. Tears are coming out of her eyes. "In her defense," she chokes out, "It's a very important thing!"
"I know!" You yell, waving your arms for emphasis. "I know how important it is to sell a nut shot! But I already know how! It's easy! Every man who's ever been hit in the balls knows how! So every man knows how! You drop! You clutch! You scream! It is not rocket science!"
"Do I want to know how you've gotten so much experience?" Allie gasps.
You glare at her. Somehow, you don't think she's taking this as seriously as you are. "I played goalie in grade school." You mutter. "Stopped a few goals that way."
Allie blinks the tears from her eyes and looks up at you. "Wow. Really? Fucking hardcore."
You flinch at the remembered pain. Even now, the sight of a soccer ball makes you shiver. Come to think of it, that might be why you stopped playing sports in fifth grade.
Small aftershocks of laughter ripple through Allie as she tries to get it back under control. With a wounded dignity, you stick your nose in the air away from her mirth and stare at your Clue sheet. Hm. You think you've got it actually. The last laugh will be yours!
"Mrs. White in the Kitchen with the wrench." you say.
Allie freezes and shuffles through her cards. "I… I can't disprove." she grates out. Triumphantly, you pull open the case file and take out the three cards within. Mrs. White in her maid getup greets you, followed by the cold tile of the Kitchen card, and the small card-shaped piece of paper you cut out to replace the missing wrench card. Victory!
"I don't know how... " Allie grates out, laughter forgotten. "But you're cheating. I know you're cheating. No one can win six in a row. I just have to prove it."
"Mhm." you agree, leaving back as you bask in your victory. "My methods are a bit out there, but I hope you can understand them- it's called "basic deduction". In it, I-" A thrown pillow cuts of your victory monologue.
After the ensuing pillow fight, you're on the floor, game forgotten. Allie's laying with her head on your leg. "Fucking cheater." she groans out. "Think I pulled something."
Your victory afterglow is gone just as quick as Allie's laughter was. "Shit." you bite out. "You alright? Is it your shoulder? I-"
Allie snorts. "I'm fine, really. I just fell on my leg. My arm is just fine. See?" She moves the shoulder in question, rotating it around. You grab it before it can do more than twitch.
"I believe you." You say hastily. "No need to prove it."
Your friend looks up at you, her light blue eyes meeting your own. "Seriously, T, I'm fine." she gently stretches. "It wasn't even bad enough for them to prescribe me the hard stuff. I barely feel it right now."
You breathe out deeply, letting your worry flow out of you. You know you've been hovering a bit; maybe you've been letting it get a bit out of hand. "Alright," you relent. "Good."
Allie nods once, decisively, and you get the feeling that some kind of decision's just been made. "You gonna stop being a little nursemaid?" she asks. At your reluctant nod, she smile and claps once. "Perfect! So let's talk about our show."
"Our show?" you ask slowly.
"Yeah. Booking in a day or two." She goes on. "Kid's party? We're wrestling? Wrestling is a thing we do to try and make money but fail at? Ringing any bells here?"
You try and choose your words carefully. "I hadn't thought you were coming."
She snorts. "Well, I am. It'll take more than this-" she shrugs her shoulder. "-to keep me out of action. I barely got to do anything last time! Time to make up for lost time."
You're too busy trying to figure out the sudden turn this conversation's taken to interrupt her, so she goes on. "I talked with the mom who's setting all this up. She seems like a really nice woman- strange though. Who decides to have a two-match card for her kid's party? Really, who does that? But that's not important."
"What is important is that there's only going to be maybe six workers there. She wants one tag and one singles match. Nothing extreme. Maybe fifteen minutes each, and then we hang around and make nice with kids for an hour or two. I'm just trying to figure out what to do."
It slowly begins to dawn on you that she's planning on wrestling with a hurt shoulder. What's worse, you don't think you'll be able to stop her. Allie goes on, heedless of your thoughts. "We're not going to be able to trio up like normal. One of us is going to get the singles, and the other two will wind up in the tag. Any idea?"
Well. Allie's a wrestler, and you knew there was going to come a time when you'd see or be someone that worked hurt. You know you'd be chomping at the bit to get back in there if it was you. But Daybreak's story is still bouncing around in your head, a story about a man who worked hurt too often and paid for it.
Allie's looking at you with an expectant look on her face. She's waiting for an answer.
[] Allie can take care of herself. More then that, she needs the experience. You and Jack will take the tag match, and Allie will work the single.
[] Not only can Allie take care of herself, this is an oppertunity. She and Jack haven't really been gelling and this is the perfect opportunity to both get some singles experience and let them work on it. You'll take the singles, and Allie and Jack will work the tag.
[] You trust Allie to know her own body, but you'd feel better if you were there. Plus, you like working tag matches. It's fun! You and Allie will take the tag, and Jack will work the single.
[] Maybe you can convince her to wait a little more? The doctor did say wait two weeks to prevent further damage, and it'll barely have been one when you go to the party. Try and convince Allie to work as a manager for you and maybe Jack. You'll both get singles. (Requires DC60 Charisma check. If passed, Allie sees the sense in your idea. If failed, Allie takes the single, and your relationship will be damaged.)