Talk Loud, Walk Closer (for JustAUnicorn)

[Letta]

The backstage corridor of LAW was quieter than the arena beyond it, though the distant roar of the crowd still carried faintly through the concrete walls. Laxia stood beneath the interview lights with her hands loosely folded in front of herself, posture straight and composed. She still wasn’t entirely accustomed to having a camera pointed directly at her outside of a match, but she had agreed to the interview nonetheless. The reporter beside her smiled toward the camera.

Spoiler

Reporter: “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here with one of LAW’s newest additions, Laxia! You haven’t been here very long, and there are already quite a few things people have been wanting to ask you.” Laxia gave a polite little nod. “Of course.” The reporter glanced down at her notes.

“So! How are you adjusting to LAW so far? Is it true your residence has its own helipad? Do you actually commute here by helicopter? Your ring gear has gotten quite a bit of attention, who designed it? What are your ambitions here as a rookie? Oh, and the swimsuit picture you posted on the ’gram was stunning, by the way. And there’s also a rumor that you left the arena with Bandita after your debut match. Any truth to that?” Laxia stared at her for a moment, then glanced down toward the reporter’s notes. “...Was I supposed to remember all of those?” The reporter laughed. “We can go back.”

“No, no...” Laxia drew in a small breath and began working through them. “LAW has been… interesting. I’m still getting used to everything, but people have been welcoming. And no, there is no helipad. I come by car… like everyone else does. Doesn’t everyone?” That was enough of an answer. There was certainly no reason to elaborate on who happened to be sitting in the driver’s seat. “As for my ring attire… LAW arranged it. It is… very different from what I requested.” Her brows drew together as she said it, lips pressing into the faintest pout. It was a restrained little flash of irritation, almost petulant in its own way, making it rather obvious that whatever LAW had done with her original request was still something of a sore point. “And my goals are simple. I want to improve, face stronger wrestlers, and eventually prove that I deserve to be here.” The reporter smiled.

“And the swimsuit photo?” “Oh, yes. Thank y-” Laxia abruptly stopped and turned toward her. “…That account is private.” Her eyes narrowed. “How did you see that?” “Moving on! Bandita.” Whatever suspicion had been building on Laxia’s face vanished immediately. “There’s a rumor that after your debut match, you and Bandita were seen leaving the arena together.” Laxia’s lips parted. “The.. two of us?” “Mhm.” “We merely...” Her gaze drifted away from the camera. “That is...” For someone ordinarily so careful with her words, Laxia suddenly seemed to have misplaced all of them. She cleared her throat. “We left at approximately the same time.” “Together?”

“...Next question.” The reporter’s smile widened, but mercifully she moved on. “There is something else people have been talking about. Your clothes.” “My clothes?” “Outside the ring. When you arrive at the arena, appearances, events. They’re obviously expensive, but there are almost never any obvious logos or giant branding. Very... quiet luxury. Would you ever consider having one of those designers make your ring gear?” “No.” The answer came without hesitation. “I don’t think that would be necessary. What someone wears isn’t especially important, at least not in wrestling. What matters is what someone can do once the bell rings.”

Laxia paused briefly before continuing. “You can dress yourself in expensive clothes, jewelry, bright colors… whatever you like. But making yourself look impressive doesn’t make your ability impressive.” The reporter went quiet for half a second before glancing down at her phone with the faintest trace of amusement. “Well, actually, that does bring me to something else. Someone recently posted a message aimed at the LAW roster. Apparently there are a whole lot of people around here ‘feelin’ themselves lately,’ but she hasn’t seen one that’s impressed her yet.” Laxia’s brow furrowed. “...Feelin’ themselves?” “Thinking very highly of themselves.” “Oh.” “Do you think she could have been talking about you...?”

For a moment, Laxia said nothing. Normally, she might have dismissed the idea without a second thought. There were plenty of women on LAW’s roster, after all. Yet the way the reporter was looking at her made the question linger a little longer than it should have. Her lips pressed together faintly. And perhaps it was simply bad timing. Her most recent loss was still fresh enough to leave a small bruise on her pride, one she had been doing her best not to prod at. Suddenly, words like impressed felt just a little more pointed than they otherwise might have. Laxia’s eyes narrowed by the slightest degree before her expression settled again.

“I wouldn’t know.” She tilted her head, her tone remaining composed. “And if she does have something to say about me, I find it rather strange that I should have to hear about it through somebody else’s telephone.” A faint edge had crept beneath the softness of her voice. “I simply don’t think very highly of people who make grand statements from somewhere safely out of sight. In my experience, people who talk loudly from behind everyone else are rarely quite as impressive when they actually have to stand in front of you.” Something briefly drew the reporter’s attention past Laxia’s shoulder. Laxia caught the glance from the corner of her eye, though she didn’t turn to follow it. Instead, she finished calmly,

“If someone has something to say about me, I’d rather they stop hiding behind a screen and say it to my face.”

[JustAUnicorn]

Only moments after her last match, Jazmine’s thumbs were already flying. A juicy little message had gone out on her socials, and the replies were rolling in nice and steady. Her debut run had been loud, flashy, and impossible to ignore, which was exactly how she liked it. But now that the initial spectacle had cooled, the Street Queen found herself in the worst possible position: bored.

She’d already changed out of her ring gear and was wandering the backstage halls in street clothes which consisted of a designer fit loud enough to turn heads. Louis bag slung over one shoulder, chains around her neck, fresh Jordans on her feet, the works. She settled onto a production crate with her phone in one hand and a half-finished drink in the other, messily slurping through the straw while she scrolled. That was when a cluster of reporters hurried past her, cameras and mics in tow, heading toward a room around the corner. Jazmine’s eyes tracked them, interest piqued before she eventually slid off the crate and followed.

Jazmine Deluxe

Rounding the corner, she found the familiar sights and sounds of an interview setup, lights, cameras, overlapping voices. Center stage stood a petite woman with bright orange hair still in her wrestling gear, posture perfect, speaking in that soft, careful tone that made Jazmine’s mouth scoff with disgust. She didn’t recognize the face at first, but the questions painted the picture fast enough: helipads, expensive clothes, "quiet luxury", whatever the fuck that meant. Some rich girl playing wrestler. Cute.

She leaned against the corner of the doorframe, staying out of sight and out of mind at first as she continued scrolling on her phone. Then the reporter brought up Jazmine’s own tweet. Her thumb froze on the screen. Eyebrows furrowed as she looked up again. She hadn’t been talking about this girl. Hell, she hadn’t even known the chick existed five minutes ago. She’d just been fishing, dropping bait into the LAW pond to see who would bite. But as Laxia answered, Jazmine’s lips slowly curled into a grin. “I simply don’t think very highly of people who make grand statements from somewhere safely out of sight"

Oh damn. She really said that.

Jazmine lowered the bottle from her lips… then burst out laughing, loud and deliberately obnoxious. Every head in the room snapped toward the sound. Cameras pivoted. Reporters scrambled to reframe. There she was, leaned against the doorframe, nearly doubled over, one hand still holding her drink. “Girl,” she called out, still catching her breath, “you really shouldn’t be sayin’ stuff like that when I’m walkin’ around back here.”

She pushed off the wall and sauntered forward, Jordans tapping against the concrete with ever step. She stopped a few feet from Laxia, tilted her head, and gave the orange-haired woman a slow, open once-over, all the way from her hair to the pristine gear to that carefully composed face.
“Well, look at this.” Jazmine took another casual sip. “I walk in here bored as hell and find myself standin’ in front of Miss Fancy Pants herself.” She glanced toward the nearest reporter with a crooked grin. “Y’all didn’t tell me LAW was doin’ interviews with royalty now.” A few of the media people chuckled. Jazmine’s smile widened as she turned back to Laxia.

“You look confused, baby, so allow me. I’m Jazmine DeLuxe. The Street Queen. The one you apparently been talkin’ about without even knowin’ it.” She gestured loosely at herself, like the introduction should have been unnecessary. “Remember the name. You’re gonna be hearin’ it a whole lot more.” She folded her arms, still studying Laxia with open amusement.
“Now I ain’t gonna lie, I can see why they all thought my tweet was about you. You walk around here lookin’ like Daddy Warbucks dressed you to play pretend wrestler in the ring.” She shook her head, laughing under her breath. “That’s some funny shit. Everything about you is screamin’ ‘Please notice how refined I am.’ The attitude. The outfit. The posture. The little princess routine. Baby, you’re dressed like a fuckin’ chandelier. So don’t lecture anybody about presentation.”

She took another slow drink, letting the silence hang for a second before her voice settled into something more pointed. “See, that’s where me and you are different. I’m from the streets. Everything I got, I worked for. Every piece of this?” She gestured at herself. “Mine. Every dollar, every scar, every damn bit of respect. I earned that shit.” She tapped two fingers against her chest. “Jazmine DeLuxe does that all by herself.” She took one final step closer, eyes locked on Laxia’s.

“So when I hear somebody standin’ here talkin’ all proper about poise and class… I’m lookin’ at you like, girl, who the hell are you tryin’ to impress…‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t me.”

[Letta]

“…stop hiding behind a screen and say it to my face.”

The words had barely left Laxia’s lips when laughter burst from the doorway, almost as though her challenge had summoned someone into existence. Every head turned toward the sound. A woman stood there, laughing openly. Laxia frowned before glancing at the reporter, and catching the oddly knowing smile on her face. ...A setup? Or coincidence? Either way, it hardly mattered. Laxia hadn’t lied or singled anyone out. She had merely spoken her mind. The woman pushed off the doorway and approached, voluminous curls bouncing with every step while the chains around her neck scattered the lights, their metallic clinks somehow sounding expensive.

Then came the once-over. Her eyes traveled down Laxia and back up again, sizing her up like merchandise being inspected and priced. Laxia’s brows tightened, one hand unconsciously rising toward her chest. How unpleasant. Yet the moment the woman spoke, the room shifted around her. Cameras, reporters, staff, attention gravitated toward her almost effortlessly. Annoyingly enough, she clearly knew how to command a room. Whether that came from confidence or shamelessness, Laxia couldn’t yet tell. A few crew members snickered at her jokes, quickly looking away when they caught Laxia’s stare. Laxia planted both hands on her hips.

Jazmine DeLuxe.

Street Queen.

So this was the woman behind the post. The insults were easy enough to understand, Laxia was some spoiled rich girl playing wrestler, her sincerity little more than make-believe. And then... The little princess routine. That one struck deeper than she cared to admit, recalling a familiar sort of insult she had already encountered upon arriving at LAW. Irritating, certainly. But hardly new. More amusing was how neatly Jazmine herself fit everything Laxia had just described. The loudly branded designer bag, layers of chains, impossible-to-miss earrings, even those sneakers people apparently waited outside stores overnight to buy, something Laxia had never quite understood about shoes ultimately made in a factory like any other. Jazmine was practically filling in Laxia’s bingo card herself. The realization brought the faintest curl to her lips.

Then Jazmine gestured to her own body, insisting she had earned everything herself, and Laxia deliberately let her gaze travel over her. On that point, at least, she couldn’t dismiss her. Her mouth might have been crude and her manner arrogant, but her body didn’t lie. The lean frame, sharply defined abdomen, even the subtle lines of muscle tracing down toward her hips beneath the edge of her clothing spoke plainly of countless hours of work. Whatever else Laxia thought of her, Jazmine had clearly earned that physique. That deserved recognition. The need to announce it quite so loudly, however... That was another matter. Jazmine stepped closer and looked down at her. Laxia simply lifted her chin and met her eyes. Not yielding an inch.

“First of all…” Laxia deliberately paused. “Can you not tell that I’m in the middle of an interview?” Her eyebrow lifted slightly. “Street Queen or otherwise, learning the basic courtesy of not interrupting someone would be a good start.” Her gaze slowly traveled over Jazmine. “And I must say.. your way of complimenting someone is rather unique.” A faint smile crossed her lips. “You said something about a chandelier, didn’t you?” She tilted her head. “I’ll choose to interpret that as meaning I’m too dazzling to look at directly.” A brief pause. “The wording was… rather vulgar, though.” Laxia held Jazmine’s gaze.

“And to answer your question… who am I trying to impress?” Without breaking eye contact, Laxia answered calmly. “Not anyone in particular. I don’t dress this way because I need attention. I simply want the way I present myself to reflect who I am.” Her eyes briefly shifted toward the cameras. “Because in the end, what matters isn’t the clothes or the jewelry... It’s what I prove inside that ring.” A pause. “That being said... if everything you have truly was earned by your own hands, then I respect that. I’m trying to do the same with what I have.” A faint smile. “Perhaps that’s the only thing we have in common.” Her eyes briefly moved to Jazmine’s chains and bag before returning to hers. “The only thing.”

A short silence. “But I do have to ask...since you were apparently listening in on my interview... Was I wrong..?” Laxia gestured lightly toward Jazmine’s outfit. “I don’t know what you’re capable of inside that ring yet.. but from head to toe, you seem to be saying something rather loudly.” Her voice shifted into an exaggerated imitation. “‘Look at me~ Everything I’m wearing is expensive~ Please notice me~.’” She gave a small shrug. “Am I mistaken? All that peacocking... and somehow, you still need everyone to look.”

[JustAUnicorn]

Jazmine's smile stayed put for a moment after Laxia finished, but the amusement in her eyes had changed. That little imitation of her, the sing-song look at me, everything I'm wearing is expensive routine, had clearly hit a nerve. Jazmine glanced down at herself, taking in the chains hanging across her chest and the designer bag resting against her hip, then looked back at Laxia with a slow shake of her head. Another laugh slipped out, even more obnoxious this time, and she rolled her eyes. “Girl, I ain't even gotta work that hard. I can tell you're already bothered.”

She reached down and toyed with one of the chains around her neck, letting it fall back against her chest with a soft metallic clink. “And yeah, this shit cost money. So does the bag. So do the shoes. I like nice shit. I worked for nice shit. What's the problem?” She shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I came from having nothing. Now I can walk into a store and buy whatever the fuck I want, so I'm gonna wear it. That's it. There ain't no secret message behind it. You don't gotta yap a whole damn essay trying to figure me out.”

Jazmine's eyes moved back to Laxia, and the grin on her face grew as she gestured casually toward herself. “But this is where you got me fucked up. You think I'm wearing all this because I need everybody to look at me.” She tapped herself once in the chest. “Baby, they look because I'm worth lookin' at.” She gave Laxia another slow once-over. “You wanna call it peacocking? Cool. I can live with that. At least I'm honest about wanting attention. You've been standing under these cameras this whole time talking about your clothes, your image, what you think people should look like, what you think people should be... blah, blah, blah. Then you turn around and wanna act like I'm the one begging everybody to notice me?” Jazmine laughed under her breath. “Bitch, please.”

She shifted her weight and took another drink, studying Laxia over the rim of the cup before lowering it again. There was something almost playful about her expression now, but the longer she looked at Laxia, the clearer it became that she wasn't letting the earlier comment slide. “And don't hit me with that ‘I respect you’ shit. You don't know me. You looked at my clothes and decided you had me all figured out in about thirty seconds. That's exactly what you just accused me of doing to you.” Jazmine gave a little shrug. “So don't get mad when somebody gives you the same energy you came in here with.”

Laxia had spent enough time talking about what mattered once the bell rang, and that was the part that got Jazmine actually interested. “But you know what? Keep talking.” Her grin returned as she pointed lazily toward the arena. “You keep bringing up the ring like that's where all this gets settled. You said the clothes don't matter. You said the jewelry doesn't matter. You said what matters is what somebody can do once that bell rings.” Jazmine spread her hands. “Cool. I agree with you.”

She took a step toward Laxia, closing some of the space between them. “So let's stop standing here talking about it.” The straw in her cup pointed toward the hallway leading back toward the arena. “Walk your pretty little ass down there with me and show me what's what.” Her smile widened when the cameras immediately started closing in, sensing where the conversation was heading. “You wanna know if I'm all flash? Find out. You wanna know if all this shit is just for show? Find out. You wanna see whether the Street Queen can actually back her mouth up?”

Jazmine stepped right into Laxia's space then, close enough that a couple of reporters instinctively backed up to keep both women in frame. “Then challenge me.” Her voice dropped, losing most of its playful edge. “Right here. Right now. Tell these cameras you wanna get in that ring with me. Just you and me, and we'll see real quick whether there's anything behind that dainty look of yours.”