L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Keith didn’t want to come off too presumptuous, not like he was ‘mansplaining’ or whatever that meant. The two of them were pretty close to the same age, and he wasn’t looking to give off Old Dad vibes with the recommendation…but there was some potential. He couldn't just let that slip past.

So, his plan was a simple one. Just give her the tools and maybe open the door to something a little more interesting down the line. He expected things to be left at that, and he only gave a half-chance to it becoming anything more.

Then she upped the ante.

Keith’s jaw shifted; he blinked, genuinely taken off guard by that one. Giving out his real number was a rare thing, one his manager would give him no end of shit for. Hackers, stalkers, copycats, there was no end to the list of people who could make headaches for him.

But it was a dare. It was obviously a dare. And he didn’t get to where he was by not taking risk.

Keith stroked his chin, grazing over the stubble of an infant beard, only to make a show of him thinking it over. Once that pantomime was done, he stepped over and brought a sticky note off the table of his tech setup. He pulled off a sheet, scribbled his number on it, and handed it to her without a word. Only a smile that matched her own, down to the inch.

Representation might be the one piece she was missing. Many of the woes she’d aired during the interview had been weaponized for narrative’s sake, but beneath the spin, her treatment truly hadn’t been ideal. She was a Knox, after all, a name that commanded respect, even if that was the only currency her family reliably dealt in. They were pioneers, faces of the industry. But when it came to actual compensation, things had never been as golden as her moniker suggested.

The house in California, her parents constantly touring in different states, money was rarely as abundant as she would have preferred. Still, even back then she had Walter Biggs: longtime friend of the family, agent, and accountant for her father. He’d handled her early bookings and, more often than not, had been her sharpest critic when it came to her antics.

What she needed now was someone efficient, someone who wouldn’t fuss over details or handhold her into irrelevance. Maybe this was an easy in. She fully intended to look this woman up. Whatever direction she’d been giving Keith was clearly working. Madison could at least lend an ear, see if there were insights worth taking.

She took the note between two fingers, holding it with a neutral expression for a long, silent beat. Her eyes flicked down to the scrawl, then back up to Keith. A soft laugh slipped from her lips as she folded the paper crisply, once, twice, until it was small enough to vanish into the palm of her hand.

“Our little secret, hm?” she teased, voice pitched in a conspiratorial stage whisper, punctuated by a wink. Hesitant to call Keith a friend just yet, given the business he was in, Madison would gladly count him as an ally. Connections were lifelines out here; she was swimming among sharks, and the more she had to watch her back, or stand in front of her as buffers, the better. Keith was already connected. More importantly, he had reach. Today had proven that much.

Tucking her crutches beneath her arms, Madison swung herself upright with the practiced ease of someone who had done it far too often in the past few days. She steadied, then cast him a small smirk.

"Have someplace to be, or can you spare a little time to walk me out?”