A Diva Down in the Dumps

[Weonna]

Rianne Sad T-T

The private wrestling lounge was unusually quiet tonight.

Normally, Rianne Evans would've appreciated that. No rookies making a racket, no idiots hogging the practice ring, and most importantly nobody around to annoy her.

Tonight, though?

The silence was only giving her more time to think.

Rianne sat slouched on one of the couches overlooking the private ring, still dressed in her wrestling gear from earlier that evening. Her arms were folded tightly beneath her chest, one leg crossed over the other while her boot bounced irritably in the air.

She'd lost.

Again.

"Bloody ridiculous..."

Rianne muttered under her breath, staring daggers at absolutely nothing.

Her most recent match kept replaying in her head. And, worst of all, that humiliating moment where the referee's hand struck the mat for three.

Rianne rolled her eyes and sank deeper into the couch.

"Fluke. That's all it bloody was."

Obviously.

Because there was absolutely no possibility that someone had simply been better than the Sexy Diva tonight.

...Right?

Rianne's bouncing leg abruptly stopped.

"Oh, piss off."

She snapped at her own thoughts before grabbing one of the cushions beside her and angrily hugging it against her stomach.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be going. She was Rianne bloody Evans. She was supposed to be walking around LAW with that smug little grin of hers while everyone else complained about losing to her.

Instead, here she was.

Alone.

Sulking.

And cuddling a cushion.

Rianne glanced down at it.

"...You tell anyone about this and I'll kill ya."

The cushion wisely remained silent.

"Good."

Rianne huffed and rested her chin against it, completely unaware of whether someone else might eventually wander into the lounge.

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino wasn't really sure where he stood with Rianne. Their chemistry was explosive in the worst way when they first met, the two seeming to genuinely hate each other. But then that seemed to change in the ring; or brain chemistry got confused at some point. Hate turned into a different kind of passion. Backstage, it had become something more definitively other than hate. When they were alone, Rianne was still very much Rianne - but a different kind of Rianne. A kind he could tease and annoy, because he knows she had developed some kind of fondness for him. Was it purely physical? Was it something else?

Ah, Hell, who knows.

But tonight, he saw her take a hard loss. She wasn't exactly the most upstanding girl in the match, but then... the other couldn't exactly call her finish clean, could she? The whole thing was a mess. And while seeing Rianne frustrated after being pinned brought him some level of amusement, hearing murmurs from stagehands that Rianne seemed to have an especially dark stormcloud hanging over her head tonight didn't. Whatever they might be to each other, the idea of her taking it especially hard felt bad. Felt wrong.

He was dressed to wrestle, but didn't have a match tonight. Nothing scheduled. But come prepared, right? Sometimes an opportunity would present itself. He figured Rianne wouldn't mind, all things considered. And it wasn't like he was shy about being seen. Being a model and professional wrestler would beat that sensitivity out of a person, he imagines.

Still, with his expression drawn in a concern he couldn't keep off his face and one hand brushing against the back of his neck, he searched for the lounge she was rumored to've entered. And upon finding it, he pauses at the door.

Should he knock? Just go in?

Why not both?

He raises a fist to knock on the door two times, three time, a fourth time just to be sure. Then the handle is turned - or attempted to be turned - to let himself in. "Rianne?," he asks.

[Weonna]

Rianne's sulking was abruptly interrupted by the sound of knocking at the door.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

"...Oh, for fuck's sake, piss off..."

Then came the fourth knock.

Rianne's eye twitched as she squeezed the cushion tighter against herself, fully prepared to unleash hell on whichever unfortunate bastard had decided tonight was the perfect night to bother her.

Then she heard the voice.

"Rianne?"

Her eyes widened.

Of all bloody people...

A deep blush immediately spread across Rianne's cheeks as memories of their previous encounters came rushing back. Domino was probably the last person she wanted seeing her like this.

Or at least, that was what she was going to tell herself.

As soon as the door opened and Domino stepped inside, Rianne quickly turned her head away, deliberately presenting him with her profile while hoping he'd miss the crimson shade covering her face.

"What the bloody hell d'you want?"

Her voice carried its usual bite, though the embarrassed flush undermined the intimidating effect somewhat.

Rianne stubbornly refused to look at him, arms folding beneath her chest as she sank further into the couch.

"Come all this way just t'rub salt in the wound, did ya?"

She finally glanced toward him from the corner of her eye, narrowing it suspiciously.

"'Cause if you're here t'have yourself a laugh about what happened out there, Domino..."

Her blush deepened as she immediately looked away again.

"...you can piss right off."

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino pauses when that acerbic tone came right back out, but that was all - just a pause. His head ducks slightly, as if reconsidering something, but those black and white boots carried him onwards regardless. He came right up to the back of the couch, looking down at the back of her head - the messy, likely still sweaty mop of blonde hair usually styled perfectly, currently facing back at him.

He lets her finish what she has to say, and it's on the tip of his tongue to tease her. But after a few seconds of silence, it doesn't come. Instead, she'll feel a pair of hands settle over her bare shoulders. The thumbs press in beneath the shoulderblades, his palms squeezing the muscles, and all fronts begin a slow, firm circular rub. His first gambit is, in fact, to simply massage her shoulders. Whatever they are to each other, that's the impulse that took him. That's what he felt in the moment. For better or worse, he can't even begin to expect how she might react.

"I saw what happened," he confirms, his own voice lacking bite or its usual tease. "Looked kind'a rough. So I thought I'd just..." ..just what? What is he even doing? "..check on you." That sounded easy enough, right? Enough wiggle room to evade back out again if this turned hostile.

"Looked like you had'er," he adds.

[Weonna]

Rianne's shoulders immediately tensed when Domino's hands settled upon them.

"W-What're you—"

The protest died halfway out of her mouth.

Those thumbs began working into the aching muscles beneath her shoulder blades, and Rianne's posture betrayed her before her pride could intervene. Her shoulders gradually loosened beneath his hands, her head dipping slightly as an embarrassingly content little sigh escaped her.

"...Bloody hell."

She hated how good that felt.

More importantly, she hated that it was Domino making her feel better.

Then he mentioned the match.

Rianne's eyes lowered toward the floor, the frustration returning to her expression. She had nearly had Kirie. Mitzi had been desperately trying to save her, only for Matilda to keep Mitzi occupied long enough for that damned three-count to happen. Whatever excuses Rianne could make about the chaos surrounding the finish, the result remained the same.

Kirie had pinned her.

"Yeah. I bloody well did have her..."

There was considerably less venom in her voice this time. Rianne leaned back ever so slightly into Domino's massage before realizing what she was doing and stubbornly straightening herself again.

"Mitzi was right there. She would've broken the bloody pin if that German bitch hadn't kept her tied up."

Rianne clicked her tongue and turned her face away, cheeks still burning.

"Three fuckin seconds. That's all it took. Now everyone gets t'walk around sayin' Kirie beat me."

Her hands tightened around the cushion in her lap.

"...And don't you dare tell anyone I'm lettin' you do this."

A brief pause.

Then, much quieter:

"...But don't stop."

[CyanDimitrik]

"I mean...," Domino begins, easing the topic along and carefully avoiding the impulse to tease her further. It would be so easy kicking his rival(?) when she's down, but he just can't do it. "...I think you would've had'er without any help."

She straightens up in protest again, and Domino's hands continue to work her shoulders. There's a subtle tug involved at this point, trying to coax her to lean back into the couch cushion.

"I know firsthand what you're capable of. Y'almost pinned me, remember?" The hands ease inwards along her shoulders, nearing the base of her neck. More importantly, where he suspects a tangle of bunched nerves between the shoulders might be concentrated, intent on pressing his thumbs in and easing it out.

"You had'er, until what's-her-face came barreling in and threw you off. And she only came out to get in a fight with the other what's-her-face, right?," Domino posits. "So... three seconds or whatever, fine. You got pinned tonight. Because someone else ran in and broke it up. Scorecard's blurry, if you ask me."

He's well aware that Rianne wasn't exactly a girlscout, herself. But this isn't about adjudicating pure and total fairness right now. This is about taking care of his... whatever she is. The question hangs in his mind, but it's getting a backseat to the priority of soothing her. He doesn't have an obligation to do it, he reminds himself. But he's doing it nevertheless.

"For the record," he adds, "you look really good pinnin' people." It's a little levity, and not at Rianne's expense! It's not even a lie, at that. Rianne does look good stretched out against a body dominantly, hooking a leg. He may have enjoyed watching his match with her and pausing at a few key moments, himself.

[Weonna]

Her cheeks somehow managed to turn an even deeper shade of red.

"Oh, you're terrible."

She muttered the accusation without any real venom behind it. In fact, the complete opposite was happening. As Domino's thumbs worked closer toward the base of her neck, Rianne's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, another quiet sigh escaping her lips.

"Sayin' all that just 'cause you know I'm in a shit mood..."

Yet despite her complaints, Rianne wasn't pulling away.

Quite the opposite.

That subtle tug was enough to coax her backward again, and this time she didn't stubbornly correct herself. Her back gradually settled against the couch as she leaned farther into Domino's touch, letting him continue working the tension from her shoulders.

"And I didn't almost pin you,"

she grumbled, unable to resist defending her pride.

"I practically had you. There's a difference."

A tiny smirk finally appeared on her face.

There she was.

At least some of the usual Rianne was beginning to creep back out.

Then came his comment about how good she looked pinning people.

Her smirk vanished.

"...Oh, fuck off."

Rianne turned her head just enough to shoot him an embarrassed glare over her shoulder, only to immediately look away when she realized how close that put their faces.

She didn't move away, though.

Instead, she sank just a little farther back toward him.

"You're supposed t'be makin' me feel better, not flirtin' with me, you bloody prat."

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino quietly rolls his eyes when she defends her pride. He doesn't contradict her, he doesn't challenge her. Not at this time. He can be a brat-tamer later; this moment is about balming her wounded pride. And this just happens to be a part of it, isn't it?

Feeling her sink into his touch is unexpectedly nice. It's like a small sign of trust, some indication of a bond beneath the bravado. It's intriguing and exciting at the same time. But he has to remind himself, that's not why he's here. He's here because... well...

A soft sigh escapes him as she tells him to fuck off. Swing and a miss! But the look she gives him earns a little tilt of his head, noting how quickly she looks away again. Maybe it wasn't? Just more bravado? Affected aloofness? She's a puzzling thing. But it's likely his own fault for thinking about it too deeply.

"I'm just stating the obvious," Domino notes, affecting his own air of aloofness on the matter. "'Sides, who said I'm supposed to be doing that, anyhow?" The argument is a pointless one, intended only to tease her. It's obvious, because he's still rubbing her shoulders and working on that knot of tension. It brings him to lean himself down a little, however, until his elbows are resting upon the backrest of the couch. His chest hovers just above her head.

"I'm doing this because I want to." There. He said it. He has no idea what she'll do with it, but that's half the intrigue.

[Weonna]

Those words hit Rianne considerably harder than she expected.

Because I want to.

A strange heat blossomed through her chest, spreading upward until it reached her already-flushed cheeks. For once, there wasn't an immediate sarcastic comeback waiting on the tip of her tongue.

That was annoying.

"...You're such an idiot."

The insult came out considerably softer than she'd intended.

Rianne could feel him hovering just behind her now, close enough that his presence seemed to surround her. Between the warmth of his body and those hands continuing to work the tension from her shoulders, she found herself still attached to his touch despite every stubborn instinct telling her not to give him the satisfaction.

Her head gradually tipped backward until it rested against the couch, dangerously close to him.

"Comin' in here... givin' me a massage... tellin' me I looked good..."

Her eyes shifted upward toward him.

That warmth wasn't going away.

If anything, it was getting worse.

"And now you're tellin' me you're doin' it because you want to?"

Her familiar smirk returned, although the deep blush across her face made maintaining her usual confidence considerably harder.

"Careful, Domino..."

Rianne shifted just slightly beneath his hands, deliberately leaning into him rather than pulling away.

"...keep this up and a girl might start thinkin' you actually fancy her."

[CyanDimitrik]

It's a strange kind of push and pull the two have with each other, and not one Domino knew entirely how to navigate. They started out so heated. So heated. He wanted to hurt her, to ruin her credibility the way she was trying to ruin his without any kind of reason for it. And now, he's here caring for her. Tending to her. Eliciting that look from her - the one she's now giving him, with her head tipped back and smirking, but softened with that unmistakable blush coloring her normally fair skin.

His deep purple eyes rest on her blues, his expression unreadable for a few moments. Then, his head lowers as he shifts back - just enough to press his lips to her offered forehead, right between the part in her bangs. He doesn't care if she's sweaty. It's a small gesture, but one that felt more right than words would have in that moment.

And afterwards, his right hand slides from her shoulder to gently slip his palm to the front of her throat. The other hand continues to squeeze the muscle cluster beside her neck with the palm, the thumb working between the shoulderblades.

His head lifts again to look at her. "What'cha gonna do about it?," he says finally, a hint of his own teasing mirth returning. He tries to meet her gaze again, his own half-lidded in coy challenge.