L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

(Title is named after a Beatles Song)





George Fortunato, Pubowner and Schemer extraordinare, stood behind the counter of his pub called "The Wolf and the Bunny" and slowly got ready for his day. He just had complimented out a girl he had spent the night with and yawned as he stepped back into the empty room that soon would be filled with life.

The half italian Eastender was dressed in a pompous dressinggown in the colour plum, his necktie was orange and the handkerchief peaking out of his chestpocket was gold. An ordinary man would rather have killed himself then to wear such... particular colour combinations but George Fortunato was no ordinary man, never had, never will be.

The pastellcoloured hairs of the englishman were uncombed and wavy and his handsome features still looked sleepy when he started the coffemachine. Inside the kitchen a pan with eggs, sausages and beans was standing on the oven sending scents into the air that every englishman would immediatly recognize and straightend his back before he took a seat on one of the barstools that stood prominently at the counter, grabbed for his coffee and sighed.

The Eastender just had awakened from a night of lust and passion, with a beautiful girl he did'nt even know the name of. Why? Because she did'nt intrest him. He found a girl attractive, he talked and flirted with her, made her some shallow compliments and then got into bed with her, or sometimes him. George was'nt picky but he was one thing. Bored and desintrested.

When he had done his share he made sure to get his one night stands out as soon as possible before things got ugly... Or too cozy. This was the way George Fortunato from the Eastend of London lived day in and day out. The only thing that made his day were the special events he held and the different briitish wrestlers of LAW who frequented his pub.

Two of them the young man liked especially, two hotblooded highflyers from Liverpool, calling themselves "The British Bunnies" and consisting of the rough around the edges Chelsea Forster and the querky ball of energy, her younger sister Molly. Molly only visited from time to time but Chelsea had begun to frequent the pub almost every evening and so her and George became good friends quickly, drinking, playing darts and laugh over this this silly japanese people and their strange culture.

The Bunnies just had fought in one of their biggest matches yet at the biggest wrestling stage in the world and after a good start had lost at the end. George was'nt able to talk to Chelsea as he was not in Japan but he knew, after all what Chelsea had told him, after all she had planned, she was met with something stronger then her again and George knew how this had to hurt his friend. He had came back yesterday and expected his friend to arrive any second and like he was a mindreader, the door to his pub opened...

It had only been a day since the biggest moment in Chelsea's life - as well as the biggest disappointment. After many months of hard work and training, working her way through the independent circuit in her native England before making the trip to Japan, Chelsea had found her way to the biggest stage of her career: We Are LAW 3, the flagship event of the major-league promotion she and her sister Molly had signed to. It was there that the two of them would compete against a team that had quickly become their rivals as soon as they made their landing in the country - the Carnival Girls.

It had started innocently enough. One of Chelsea's first opponents in LAW was Shaina Nakoto, one-third of the Carnival Girls - and, as far as anyone could tell, easily their weakest link. Chelsea barely had to expend any effort to trounce the young redhead, and she was left gloating over a lucky start to the next chapter of her life.

But Shaina wasn't alone. After the match, her teammates had rushed her and Molly, and the five of them were soon dragged into a brawl that they realized could only be settled with a rematch. But Chelsea was doomed to still leave unsatisfied when that match led to a disqualification due to her attack on the referee. Chelsea couldn't let that be the end. Not until she had a decisive win over all three of the Carnival Girls that would stand at proof that she and her sister wouldn't be conquered by such fools. And that was supposed to finally happen the night before - at We Are LAW.

Not only would it put an end to the Carnival Girls once and for all, it would do so at the height of Chelsea's rise to glory. She was main eventing the undercard portion of the show, the highest honor she had ever achieved at that point. She and Molly had squarely been a midcard team for much of their career - but now, it was time for them to taste what victory felt like in front of the biggest crowd they'd ever stood before.

It had all gone well at first. Satsuki and Amelia both fell before the Bunnies' assault, and all that was left was Shaina - who Chelsea was saving for last, both wanting to get revenge on her for kicking off this feud in the first place, and because she was sure that she wouldn't pose any threat through the rest of the match. But Chelsea's pride had been her downfall. At the last minute, spurred on by all the anguish she'd been through in watching her friends suffer at the Englishwoman's hands, something snapped in Shaina - something Chelsea could hardly be prepared for. In the end, it was Shaina who would be the last one standing.

Chelsea grumbled to herself just thinking about it, squeezing her hand tighter. It wasn't fair. If she'd had any idea that Shaina was going to pull something like this, if she'd seen it coming, then she could have won. Should have won. Would have won. But she hadn't. In the end, she'd come this far, to the peak of her career - and right when she had the opportunity to go down in history as the victor, she had thrown it all away.

The Scouser kicked the wall of a nearby building as she proceeded down the street, cursing to herself. Ever since she had woken up after the match, it was all she could think about - her failure, and what it all meant; if she'd come this far and still lost, what else was left for her? Would she ever succeed? What she needed now was a stiff drink to take her mind off of it. It didn't matter that it was the crack of dawn - she needed this right now.

Luckily, she'd been fortunate enough to find a pub in town that catered to the English clientele, and to Chelsea, it was a little bit of home in a country she found so vast and confusing she couldn't help but get lost in it. She'd been coming to the Wolf and the Bunny more and more, trying to get away from the bustle of Tokyo and how inane she found everything about it and its people. But now, as she pushed the door open, it was her own thoughts she wanted to get away from most of all.

Her eyes scanning the room, Chelsea would find it empty - the pub had only opened a minute ago, after all. Nevertheless, with a grumble, she lifted herself into one of the stools by the bar, slamming her elbow on the counter with a grumble. "Wha' do I need ter do fe a bevvy around 'ere?!" she barked to anyone who could hear her.

Spoiler

When George heard his friend, seeing her instantanious recognizable features through the windows of the door he went behind the counter hiding, ready to surprise his friend. Of course he had heard. The whole world had heard and especially seen what went down in th final showdown of the Carnival Girls where the Bunnies showed heart and muscele, easily getting through the 3-2 advantage of the Carnival girls only to end things with the flat little cub named Shaina... When IT happend. George was sitting before a TV in his pub in London when the unthinkable happened and his proud friend Chelsea went down against the brutal beating of one Shaina Nakao.

What a joke!

George was a proud brit himself and saw the "victory" of this three boring pawns as highly doubtable and he thought to himself how Chelsea felt. She visited him almost daily, chatting and talking over this and that and of course the last weeks were filled with talks about PPV the Highlight of their career and was so proud and beautiful in her dreams of achieving greatness. And now Chelsea had failed. And George could only imagine how much it had stung. His best friend was proud and full of hopes. All of this was shattered by one factor that no one had or even could have counted in.

Chelsea went into the pub and immediatly walked up to the bar, going straight to her usual stool and called for George who had arrived yesterday and suddenly two arms wrapped around Chelseas midsection before a red rose popped up before her.
" 'ello, swee'hear'! 'ah abou' a li''le kiss faw your bes' friend, geawgie?", the sly pub owner grinned and hugged his friend tight.
" I came back as fas' as i could. 'ah do you feel darling?", he asked and had turned her around, both face to face now.
" Hmm, A' leas' you look be''er again. Was really wawried abou' you, you know?", the flamboyant pub owner asked.

And he had all reason to because George Fortunato, playboy extraordinare not just liked his fellow countrywoman. George had fallen in love with his friend, feeling emotions welling up in him that were...different to any other woman or man he ever seduced. He sighed and patted her cheek.

"Don'' wawry, geawgie brough' you some 'aste ov 'ome...", the Eastender said and went behind the counter before presenting Chelsea with a icecold bottle of Old Speckled Hen, her favourite beer and opened it for her before putting it down on a coaster and opened a Kilkenny for himself.
" Firs' some refreshmen's 'hen we 'alk, ey? cheers, swee'hear'!", he said with a wink and let the bottles touch with an audible sound.
"So 'ell me, wha' 'ad 'append?

Spoiler

It never failed. No sooner had Chelsea walked through the front door that George Fortunato was right behind her, pulling her into an embrace. This was a familiar experience for her, and she'd come to expect it, much as it annoyed her. The Scouser let out a sigh as she sank into her seat, her body crumpling with her exhalation, but she let him nonetheless. In any other circumstance, she would have slapped him. Thrown a bottle at him if she was really feeling pissed off. No matter how many times she tried to tell him, George never seemed to get the memo that they weren't dating. Sure, Chelsea felt like he was the one person she could confide her hopes and dreams in; sure, they often shared the latest news over a few drinks, but she would always insist that didn't mean anything. It wasn't his fault he just happened to be one of the few people she could hold a conversation with in this god-forsaken place.

This time, though, when George hugged her, Chelsea simply slumped forward, propping her chin up in her hand. From the sounds of it, George had already heard the news about the British Bunnies' unexpected loss. She wasn't surprised - she had gone over her plans for the match quite extensively on previous nights, nights where he would find her far more spirited and enthused than he did now, and she had his assurance that he was going to tune in to see her greatest victory live. But that victory never happened - and hearing that George was already aware of it only made it sting that much more. Chelsea was here to forget about it all, not to have it stirred up again.

"'ow do ye think I feel?" she muttered, even as she shot a glare back in his direction at the kiss comment. Regardless, there was nothing to argue. Everything was already on the table, and even someone like George would be able to put the pieces together. As she was turned her around in her seat, Chelsea sighed again, turning her gaze to the floor. When he reached out to stroke her cheek, she blushed, her face growing warm beneath his hand, but it still didn't matter. She just didn't want to be sober any more.

However, when she saw George set down a bottle of her typical order on the counter, she looked back up at him with a smile. At the very least, he knew what she wanted - like they were already in tune with each other before she'd even walked through the door. Maybe there was something worth appreciating after all. She lifted her bottle, and her eyes met his with just the slightest hint of a smirk at the sound of the glass clicking together. Of course, that smile soon turned to a dejected frown as she set the bottle back down, popping off the cap and lifting it to her lips without even bothering to pour herself a glass. Whatever had happened really was weighing down on her, it seemed.

"Wha' more is thuz ter say, like? Ye saw it already. It wuz rite thuz, tew. Moll and I 'ad dem cornered. Oh, dee guv us a fight fe us lives, se, but we let dem 'uv it! And dun..." With a shake of her head, Chelsea took another swing from the bottle, looking down as she set it on the counter. It was those last few moments of the match, where Shaina had finally snapped and unleashed a brutal beatdown on the Englishwoman, that truly stuck with her the most.

"It's not fair, I'm tellin' ye. You'd na expect de brid ter suddenly pull through at de last tick like dat. Dee cheap-shotted me. But now...this is wha' I 'uv ter live wi', innit?"

Chelsea did'nt knew about George true feelings, for her he was a clown, a flirter, who boasted with all the hot girls and boys he slept with but she had'nt the slightest idea how George really felt about the strongwilled, brootish englishwoman. Of course, Chelsea was not made out of stone and ice and when George cupped her cheek, her face turned red and she did'nt immediatly back away from it. But that were minor things, things friends would do too and George, if he liked it or not, was nothing more to Chelsea but a friend. At least for now. But it seemed unlikely that something about this would change fast so her fellow Brit decided to just enjoy Chelseas company and admire her from the far, like a boy on the shore, admiring a big , beautiful ship.

Also first and foremost they were drinking buddies and both were brits by heart, even if George was half italian, something that he could'nt completly deny as his flirtatiousnes and his tricks were all to mediterranian. Still he considered himself a true eastend original, which he was and so they cheered and downed the first of many bevearages of this evening. "Thank god, i 'ave some new wai'resses. Da new one is'n' bad bu' a li''le bi' shy. Bu' i 'hink you will like 'er.", George said and already had opened the next round for those two. It was a monday so business would be slow anyway, might as well get drunk with a beautiful girl.

George listened and took a swag of his fresh Kilkenny.
"I saw an' as 'ard i' is faw me 'o deny i', 'his girls 'ave 'alen'. Bu' still 'his should 'ave bin your evenin. I mean...psh...'ah bawin were 'hey? they looked like m&ms in 'heir stupid leo'ards an' gosh 'his endless 'alkin abou' 'ah 'hey 'old 'oge'her. Almos' made me puke i 'ell you! faw me you were 'he 'eroes an' 'he crowd, well...'here was some'hin missin. You 'wo still don'' knah 'ah 'o ge' 'he crowd on your side. Dis girls knew..."
He emptied the second bottle and nodded.

"Well, never fear, geawge is 'ere! i will 'elp you inven'in some'hin 'ha' make 'he people fawge' 'hose...'hose...who were 'hey already? no really, imagine 'his. They may 'ave won now, swee'hear', bu' who will knah abou' 'hem nex' year? you an' your skin and blister on 'he o'her mit will still be famous. An' you knah why? because you 'ave charisma, your good friend Geawagie Fortunato an'..."
He cames closer to Chelsea and grinned as he touched Chelseas tip of her nose with his indexfinger.
"...your pre''y faces!", he chuckled and put in a "best of Beatles" CD.
"I 'hink some music an' alcohol from 'ome will make your reconsider 'hings, 'm?", he asked when "Hey Jude" started to play.
When Chelsea still pouted, George smiled and looked at her.
"Never asked you darling, bu' wha' is your favouri'e colaw?"

As she listened to what George had to say, Chelsea would only sink deeper against the counter, letting out a long, low sigh that practically caused her body to deflate. She drummed her fingers against the counter and rolled her eyes. Great - she'd gone all this way just to have someone she was sure she could rant to without being judged, and he still had to get in a good word for the Carnival Girls - the same Carnival Girls who had been responsible for denying Chelsea the greatest win of her life! She did chuckle a little at his comment about them looking like M&Ms - but when she was told, once again, that she didn't know how to get the crowd on her side, she just grumbled, taking another swig of beer as the smirk fell away from her face. When she finished the bottle, she slammed a hand down against the counter, grumbling to herself.

"Great, juss great. Ye nah, Jud, you're de one git out thuz I thought wuz tew lovesick ter say anythin' bad about me, and 'ere it all is again! 'Chelsea, ye can't weerk wi' people!' 'Chelsea, you're tew angry!' 'Chelsea, avyer tried smilin' more!'" She groaned, kicking the bar with enough force to rattle some of the glasses on it, before she rolled her eyes in disgust. "Bugger it all! Christ, Jud, I came ter wrestlin' ter get away from dat shite! Far as I'm concerned, all dat should matti is 'ow good I am inna straightener, and I've kicked de teeth outi enuff bitches ter be se o' dat! It's not politics, ye nah! Wha' should it matti wa' de juge thinks about me, by de end o' de dee, so long as I can win? Only...I can't win, canna?"

With another long sigh, Chelsea let herself sink lower, burying her face in her folded over arms on the counter. It wouldn't be the first time she was told that her abrasive personality was an obstacle to her getting anywhere in life - it had been what kept her out of pursuing her hopes of securing a contract with a recording label. She had hoped that in the world of wrestling, it wouldn't hold her back any longer. Yet, here, George was bringing up the same ghosts of her past that haunted her all her life, and she let her head fall against the table with the sound of a thunk.

But George seated himself beside her, and slowly Chelsea lifted her head, looking back at him as he spoke. She rolled her eyes as he talked about lending his aid - god only knew she didn't need that - but as he went on to put the music on, she couldn't help but look up a little with the slightest hint of a smile. The Beatles were her favorite band, and as icons of her home town of Liverpool, they never failed to remind her of home. They had inspired her to pursue a musical career in the first place, even when that fell short. And it seemed, from all those nights rambling and raving until long into the evening, Chelsea's stories of her past had stuck with George. He knew her well enough to come prepared for her. Even she had to admit it, it was...nice.

At the question of her favorite color, she sighed again, this time propping her chin up in her hand as she looked away. "Red. I guess. Wha' does it matter, anyroad?"

George had come around took a seat next to his friend, no his best friend. And he was sure, Chelsea felt the same. The Liverpudlian had told him everything about her upbringing, her childhood, Molly, her school, her shattered dreams. George knew that Chelsea was much, much more fragile then she looked or behaved like. Behind all of the brootish, angry,stubborn behaviour was a girl who just did'nt knew how to react to the world. Chelsea had'nt made any friends trying to get her musiccareer into gear and finally found to wrestling, something a schoolyard brawler like Chelsea Forster could get into very easily of course. She had told him all about herself,mostly when a little intoxicated, but still, she had trusted him with it and George had never failed her. And he would not fail her now as he grabbed some whiskey, two glasses, walked around the counter and sighed, sitting next to Chelsea who had slumped down into her seat.

"Oi,swee'hear', le' 'he sunshine back in'o your 'ear', yes?", George said and put an arm on her back, softly stroking it and pulled Chelsea in his direction, his arm around her shoulder ,before opening the bottle and pour two glasses.
"yes, 'ha' is some'hin you 'ave 'o live wi'h. You 'ave 'o live wi'h i' bein in wikipedia, on wrestlin si'es, i' will be men'ioned in magazines, shows, an' so on. An' all i can say abou' is, so wha'? you did 'he bes' you can an' fough' un'il 'he end an' 'his is some'hin no one can 'ake away from you. Ov course i' was'n' my figh' bu' i was so involved in your plans 'ha' i feel as if i 'ad los' myself you knah. I' is never nice 'o see a friend fail. An' you are my bes' friend, chels, i 'ope you knah 'ha'. I knah 'ha' you an' "friends" was'n' some'hin you were known faw back in england, excep' faw 'his 'hree guys you 'old me abou'.", he said and took a swig of his drink.
"Anyway, 'he impaw'an' 'hin is, you are no' alone in 'his. 'ah does molly feel abou' i'. She always wan's 'o make you proud. 'ave you 'alked 'o 'er? i knah chelsea, i know, i saw wha' 'appened, everyone saw. She 'aun'ed you wi'h your skin and blister, bea' up molly while you could'n' 'elp 'er. I knah 'ah much you love molly. 'ell, maybe 'he only person you really love in your life...",he said with a tad of bitterness in his voice and hoped that Chelsea did'nt hear it.

Instead he brought his hand up to her face and suddenly, like magic, a beautiful red flower appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Dis , my dear chelsea, is an amaryllis, a lily flower 'ha' represen's streng'h. An' i could'n' 'hink ov a be''er person 'o wear i'. You, are very strong darling, on 'he inside an' 'he ou'side.", he said and put it into the hair of his friend, right beneath her headband and then gave her a kind smile.
"Beau'iful, simply, beau'iful."
A certain red glimmer already had formed around the nose of the pub owner when the first guests arrived, greeted by his waitress who had arrived a few minutes ago, leaving them on their own.

Chelsea let out a sigh, feeling George's hand against her back. Ordinarily, if anyone tried getting handsy with her, she wouldn't hesitate to whip herself around and break their arm. George was no exception to that, no matter how many times she's threatened him to no avail. But this time, as she felt his fingers brush across her back, Chelsea couldn't bring herself to speak up. She was too emotionally spent to care. And - though she would never admit it - there was something about his touch that felt almost...nice. When she felt so alone, she realized, all she really wanted was someone to hold her - but she didn't know if she wanted it to be George. For now, all she could do was let out a sigh, slumping against the counter as she let her head rest in her hand. And, as he pulled her closer, she let herself slump against his side, placing a hand on his shoulder and letting herself fall into place - almost as though she was hugging her arms around him.

As George went on to describe how the loss would forever be on her record, Chelsea turned her head to the floor. To look him in the eye would be admitting her failure, and she had no intentions of doing so. Still, when she heard him talk about how she was his best friend...it couldn't help but move something in her. She looked back up at him, sniffling a little. She was glad to actually have someone in her life who cared - but that feeling was bittersweet, tempered by the knowledge that whatever she had, she hadn't done anything to deserve it. "What...do you care?" she said softly. "I don't see why you bother...or why anyone bothers. Molly, she's my sister, we're family. She has to care. What excuse do you have...to be stuck with me..?"

She blinked a few times, clearing a few stray tears from her eye. But then, she looked back up at George just in time to see him pull a flower from out of thin air - or so it seemed, at least! Chelsea gasped, jolting upright in her seat as the sight stirred her to her senses. She wasn't aware that George had such talents - or what he was doing with them here! "Wha' ay ye doin'? Juss tryin' ter impress me, like?" She rolled her eyes and groaned, sure that this was some ploy to get in her pants. But she did have to look back curiously as he went on. The flower was quite pretty, and the trick had been impressively executed...

As he went on to describe the meaning behind the flower he revealed, Chelsea's cheeks only flushed brighter. She raised a hand to her mouth, trying to hide her blush, and inside she could feel something hot in her chest as she fidgeted back and forth idly in her seat. As she tucked it into her hair, she blushed even more - but her hand dropped just a little to show the slightest bit of a smile.

"Strength, huh...you...you really didn't need to..." she said. Her voice was soft; she took care to ensure that no one else would hear her. "You can't really think I'm..."

George had scooted closer to Chelsea while the pub was frequented by the usual suspects of a monday evening. George waitress could handle the few barflies, students and wrestlers on her own, giving George time to care for his friend. George was someone who was never shy of speaking his opinion and always had a quip, a joke or something sarcastic on his lips, it seemed that the Cockney Flame had every situation under control, being able to read people before they even spoke to him.

But this here was different, everything with Chelsea was different. Sure, he would like to sleep with her yes, but there was more. Chelsea was'nt just a "Hottie", Chelsea was his best friend and he wanted to be there for her, but of course his liverpudlian friend knew him and his reputation by now and so the Eastender could only blame himself that the, already mistrusting Chelsea, accused him of just trying to get into her pants.
George, for the first time in his life, was short of words. Especially as his friend leaned into him and placed her arms on his shoulders, her head to his chest. The handsome half italian tried to stay calm, he was cool and collected whenever he flirted, but if someone would take his blood pressure by now it would something between 150 to 120.

He pulled out the flower, a simple trick, of course, it was'nt hard to guess what the Scousers favourite color was, but he did it to make her smile and not just as cheap way of sleeping with her. Even if everything, his charming attitude, his flirting, his touching, seemed to intend nothing but to get a quick fuck.

When Chelsea blushed, George finally took his other arm around her and pulled her a little closer, her hair was touching his cheek and her hairband tickled his nose. "What I have from that?", he asked and, also something that happened rarely, he spoke a soft and clear english as he went on, his voice now a few octaves deeper because the cockney had left him,at least for now and Chelsea got an example of a George she had'nt met yet.
Suddenly he did'nt seem like a flirty, handsome clown anymore, as he wrapped his arms around her, almost protectivly, all the androginous behaviour left him as George showed his more masculine side.
"Hey, shhh...", he said softly and used his thumbs to wipe the small trickles of tears leaving Chelseas eyes, away.

"What I got from all of this is my best friend from the north of course. Yes, you are rude, you punch me , you insult me, you can't behave for a second but still, I could'nt think of a better friend then you, darling.", he said while holding her tight, feeling the effects of the quickly downed beers on him.
When he heard her muttering why he stuck with her he closed his eyes for a second, listened to the Beatles rocking along and feeling Chelsea close to him. Then he shifted and took one hand under Chelseas chin, lifting her face up, both were close to each other now.
"Because I really,really like you sweetheart, thats all.", he smiled,both looking into each others eyes for a few seconds before George hand brushed some hair out of Chelseas forehead as he leaned closer, their foreheads touching as they still had eyecontact with each other.
"And yes, I indeed mean it that way. You..are...beautiful and strong. And I admire you...", he whispered when he heard a certain song by the fab four starting to play.

George smiled and got up from his stool, offering a hand to Chelsea. "Care for this dance?", he smiled. "Oh come on, sweetheart, a girl as athletic as you is a born dancer, wait...wait...I show you.", he said and let no protest count as he dragged Chelsea back with him into the open space between the bar and the tables and wrapped one arm around her and the other one holding Chelseas right hand. The owner of the pub looked down at his friend and smiled. "Just follow lead..."

"Huh..?" Looking up at George, Chelsea didn't know what to make of him. Sure, she had been frequenting the Wolf and the Bunny enough by now to know him like the back of her hand - he was an obnoxious, flirtatious loudmouth who was either too dense to realize she wasn't interested in what he had to offer, or he just liked to go along pretending she was anyway. But now, in her most vulnerable of moments, something was different. This time, Chelsea leaned in against George, letting her body relax against his, and the contact almost felt...nice. She could feel the warmth of his body against her own, even the gentle rustling of her hair as it was blown with each of his exhalations, and she let out a long, deep breath, settling in at his side. It didn't mean anything, she told herself. This wouldn't change anything about them; he was still an utter clod. All she really wanted was someone to lean on, who she could feel reassured by, and who could convince her that everything was all right. And George would have to do.

Still, as she heard the depths of his voice as he whispered to her, dropping the accent, and as she felt the strength in his fingers when he brushed the tears away from her eyes, Chelsea could feel a tingle running down her spine. This was a side of him that he had scarcely shown before - and, seeing it from him now, Chelsea's eyes widened a little bit further, as though she was looking into a closely-guarded secret that George could only show to those who had his trust. And now...she was one of them. Did he really...care this much?

Leaning in closer, she listened to his words. Her eyes softened as he went on, and her fingers began to drift lower, going to take his hand in hers. Her grip was a light and tenuous one - she didn't want anyone to get the impression it meant anything - but she still held on, lingering at his side. "You...really mean it?" she whispered, her own accent fading as their eyes met, and Chelsea found herself transfixed by his gaze. "You were inspired...by me? You got all of this strength...from me?" The smallest hint of a smile began to grow at the corner of Chelsea's mouth as she looked up toward George. She could hardly believe that she could really have that much of an effect on someone; she didn't even feel she deserved it. "Even now...that you know I wasn't enough..? You would still say..?"

George's next offer took her by surprise, and she raised an eyebrow curiously. She'd never danced in her life - and he wanted to make this some sort of moment? "I don't dance-" she began - but George was already rising from his seat, taking Chelsea up in the process. At a different time, Chelsea might have shrunken away, or told him to leave her alone, or lashed out and struck at him if he was being particularly persistent. But...this was different. For Chelsea, the walls had come down just enough that when she looked up at George, she trusted him to guide her through every move. She nodded to him, beginning to sway slowly to the music, and her eyes met his as her hands squeezed his tighter.

"Okay...show me what you've got, then..."