L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

So a day-trip to the beach turned into two days. The first day got a bit complicated and hectic, and Blaise found himself unable to really engage in the dealings that make a beach day a "beach day." That won't be the case today. No, for today is going to be packed with all the antics and activities one should expect of a mini-vacation.

Such activities currently include: nothing. Hardcore nothing. The young grappler is sprawled out on a beach towel, eyes shut, and soaking in the sun's rays. No chasing volleyballs and colliding with girls, no thumping watermelons with mallets - actually, what's up with that? Is Gallagher a national treasure here?

Whatever. His arms fold behind his head, a lazy smile on his face. He hasn't a care in the world. His clothing consists of a pair of silver swimtrunks streaked with a royal blue swoop, his sleekly-trim athletic body otherwise left completely bereft.

With literally no introductions made beyond with one particular amazon, Diana Accera found herself prowling in sights of competition.

And the competition, was astounding.

With entire divisions laid out before her, essentially giving Diana the pick of whom and what sort of foe she could encounter, the sheer volume of such led the Italian to seeking somewhat more obscure competition before hitting the main roster. Feet amongst the sand, clad in a tight fighting white bikini with thick sunglasses and a loose white shirt flowing freely around her, Diana smiled with the possibilities laid out before her.

Mind adrift, the fierce Italian barely bothered to see where she was going, when she unknowingly walked into the presence of a bathing fighter. Nearly tumbling outright over him, Diana managed to quickly save herself, arms extending as she found her balance.

"Oh fuck..shit..sorry man...I was just...wait..." Right hand coming to her sunglasses, Diana peered them slightly down, to lock eyes directly with Blaise. "I know you..."

A foot thumps into Blaise's ribs. Eyes flash open, and he's thankfully shadowed by a person stumbling around him. He immediately props himself on his elbows, trying to get a read on the situation as quickly as he can. Fortunately, it seems pretty straightforward. Tall, dark-haired woman wasn't watching where she was stepping.

"Psh, no worries, I did practically the same thing the other day...," he trails off. Wait a minute. She knows him? He studies her more closely, taking in her features. Awesome body, bikini, dark hair, dark eyes... it's not ringing a bell offhand. But he can't help but play a little with her. She tee'd it up too well! "From your dreams?," he asks with a boyish grin.

He gathers himself up to his full height to stand before her.

Correcting her posture, Diana at first adopted a casual one to add some weight to her honest apology, before the man before her attempted to crack wise. Such earned a shifting in the Italian's stance; moving to one hip, with eyebrows raised.

"Not likely..." Words shot back with a sharp tone, Diana's eyes didn't hide the fact she was scanning the frame now before her. She didn't know exactly where she knew Blaise from, but she knew one thing. He had a fighters physique.

"Ooh, nightmares then~," drones Blaise, despite her attitude shift. He's having fun with her, whether she is or not.

Now on his feet, he can get a better look at her in comparison to himself. And the first thing he realizes causes his eyebrows to lift in surprise. "Wow, you're tall." He leans a little closer. "You might even be taller than me, kind'a." It's difficult to tell, especially on sand. The height difference would be negligible in the end, anyway.

His hands prop to his hips, though in a much less aggressive way than her; he's simply relaxed, jocular. "So, what do you think?," he asks. He didn't it to sound like he's asking her what she thinks about his body, though the timing may have mixed that up. And after a few seconds, he adds, "Of where you might know me, I mean."

Diana's grin only grew, as the staunch albeit marginally smaller figure stepped up to her. She wouldn't back down, even an inch of course. Such was not her way, no matter who or what was stood before her.

"I'm trying to think..." Hand to her chin, Diana adopted somewhat of a thinker pose, as she tried to put a name to a face. "You can at least give me a hint, instead of cracking wise...where might I know you from..."

The fact that she didn't shy back makes things more fun; he likes a girl with spunk. And this chick seems downright... well, not aggressive, but dominant. Interesting gal. They stand close enough that his chest very nearly bumps into her barely-covered breasts.

When she asks for a hint in a roundabouts way, Blaise snickers. "Ah, well, it's Japan. I haven't done much here yet, outside of my career as a professional wrestler." It suddenly dawns on him, and his eyebrow sloowwly raises. "You seen me wrestle? Are you a fan?," he drawls, his gaze not leaving hers.

"Ah..." Suddenly the obvious came to light, as Diana realised where she had seen Blaise from. A past wrestling endeavour, that she too had likely been a part of, or at least associated with. Before it seemed now had grown out onto bigger and better things.

"No." A word shot sharply and briskly, as the Italian firmly refuted the idea that she actually fan-girled over the guy. "Now, tell me. Where you actually any good?" A dark smile moulding on her lips, as Diana's day suddenly hit an interesting point.

"Don't worry." Blaise leans in closer, and conspiratorially stage-whispers, "I won't tell anyone."

With a renewed grin, he leans back and hunches his shoulders indecisively. "I think I've always been good. Always growing, always improving, always getting better. But you're the one that recognized me, wouldn't you know the answer to that question?," he asks with a light index-finger jab at her collar.

If such was possible, Diana's aqua pair would of rolled so hard back into her skull she may have permanently lost vision simply from hearing Blaise's words. Huffing and forcing her shoulders to rise, Diana quickly decided to simply goad the fit figure back.

"Oh. Yeh. Now that you mention it. I think I saw you take some heavy losses. That must suck. What was your name again? Jimmy? Jimmy the jobber?"

Lying of course, as Diana only recognised the face and not the accomplishments nor losses that accompanied it. To ask someone who had been wrestling as long as Diana to recall single matches was akin to asking a librarian to quote a page from their library.