L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

The few drops of alcohol that had reached March Michel's brain earlier in the night had started to dry up in the last few minutes. Clarity returned, and as it did, March clapped her hand over her face with enough force that the sound rang through the mostly empty backstage hallways of her new employer.

"You dunce! Why did you have to agree to the oil!?" The echo of her voice in the same hallway didn't answer, so March kept talking, dropping to a hissed whisper. "Because he had a smart mouth and he looked good and he was ticking you off and you go along with anything and everything when you've had crap to drink and- dammit. What dummy doesn't know oil and speed don't go together!?" Tipsy March was that dummy, apparently, and the blonde shook her gym bag in frustration as she sped into the room where she and this Daisuke punk were supposed to meet and wrestle. In oil. She resisted the urge to kick the open doorway.

The room was small, almost cramped, and the light she flicked on didn't provide the best light. She had spotted it earlier and jokingly commented to some other chick that the little pools in here, which were for muscle therapy or something, would work great for rolling around in jello, or pudding, or... oil. It had put that kinky thought in sober March's head, and boy oh boy had drunk March decided to run with it! ...But now that she was in here again, thinking about it, it didn't seem so bad.

Except she couldn't move in those pools or slathered up in oil. Well she could, but her speedy self would go nowhere fast. Having already hopped into something she could throw away after it got slathered in oil - an old yellow bikini she never wore anymore - she stepped over to the pool and judged its size compared to hers. Yeah, nope, her and a man together in here left about eight or nine feet of space otherwise. "Goddamn you, mouth!"

Most of the time it wouldn't have bothered her. She and some attractive guy getting into a tiny pool together to wrestle, sure. But she had made some mighty bold claims about how she could humiliate the living shit out of him. And he had made some mighty bold claims about being some wrestling prince and that she was some California ditz with nice abs (she did have nice abs) and she had made even more claims. And he might have been as good as he claimed, and she had put herself in a situation where her best advantage, speed, was negated.

She could still cheat, though. She grinned.

Letting that comfort her, March threw her bag aside after fetching the bottle of oil from it and rushed to the door, trying to see if he was coming before she had to text him to hurry up. She absent-mindedly shook the bottle as if it was a bottle of orange juice and let one foot bounce on the other, impatiently waiting and pouting all the while.

The wrestling prince was not usually a drinking man. However, sometimes he would indulge in the occasional night out and have a few drinks. The event was organized by LAW and with that many tipsy wrestlers around, there was bound to be trouble somewhere or the other. After getting in a slightly heated argument with the newcomer while they were both tipsy, the pair agreed to meet back after getting sobered up and wrestle in a oil wrestling match. Not just an oil wrestling match but in order to win, the loser would have to say "I Quit" the two most hated words in the wrestling industry.

"Hmph, the nerve of her! Does she really think she can step up to me and challenge me like that?" he scoffed while rolling his shoulders in front of the mirror in his locker room. "Oil wrestling or not, I'm going to make this Barbie wrestler quit and perhaps send her back to the States. This is going to be a wake up call for her" Dai said with a grin as he would put on a pair of CK wrestling briefs.

Daisuke

After getting ready, Daisuke would head out from the locker room and walk down the hallway towards one of the oil wrestling rooms. While he was figuring out which one they agreed to meet in, he spotted March peak out of the door with a bottle of oil in her hand. He rolled his eyes and would walk towards that room, slipping out of his flip-flops to get barefoot, now just clad in his wrestling briefs with his manly body on full display. "Move" he said, pointing her back inside as he entered the room and closed the door behind them.

He inspected the room, it was a bit small so there was definitely not going to be any running around for fancy flying moves. Placing his hand on his hip he would raise an eyebrow. "I hope you know what you are getting into Barbie?" he mocked.

After a few seconds of squinting into the dim hallway once she heard footsteps, March could gauge that the approaching silhouette was the smart-mouthed man and not a serial murderer come to try and kill her. Good. She always figured she had a good chance to survive a horror movie since she could run so fast... but she was also a blonde which lowered her chances. He had drawn close enough for her to see his rolling eyes in the illumination of the recovery room's lights, and she cocked her arm like she wanted to throw the bottle at his head. She resisted, reluctantly switching to passing the bottle between her hands instead.

She opted to run her mouth again. "What, you don't become any of a cooler of a person when you're sober?" It wasn't her best jibe, but she was still a little tipsy. And no, he didn't. While she did get caught up in glancing at his figure for a second (okay, yes, he did look nice in no clothes... almost no clothes), she scowled and almost pushed into him when he pointed and ordered her aside. She did slide aside, if only because she was already moving to let him in, but she shivered with rage as he walked past before she took a swing to slap him on the back of his head. Not nearly enough to even so much as hurt him, only to surprise him, but a satisfying retaliation nonetheless. And maybe she would mess up his hair.

"You can't order me, patriarchy boy," she said, in her best low, mocking voice, which wasn't the easiest since her voice was so soprano. And he just answered with Barbie. Fucker. She liked Barbie. That movie had been awesome. Her initial plan, to maybe talk him out of the oil stipulation which she should have never agreed to (yes, it had only sounded hot to roll around in oil with a stranger, crucify her for her tipsy-horny crimes), disappeared with him talking shit to her again.

"I know what I'm getting you into. The most painful hold you can ever imagine, and then I'm going to smush oil all over your face, and then you're going to beg for me to quit, and then-" She didn't have more to say than that, so she jabbed a finger at the nearest pool to order him. "Get your Calvin Klein rich boy ass in there and oil up."

She chucked the bottle at him.