Unburning Bridges

Amy wasn't sure that Drake had anything to apologize for- she had knowingly and willingly provoked him, after all- but she put a hand to the one on her shoulder to accept his apology anyway. He'd apparently been carrying around some guilt over the incident, and she wanted to make sure that everything was squared away before they put the incident behind them and moved forward. "I kind of deserved it, to be honest. But thanks. I appreciate that."

Things were going much more smoothly than she'd expected, and Amy took a risk. "Are we friends again?"

Drake squeezes her shoulder, now confident that it's not damaged and is safe to do so. The fact that her hand is now over his was reassuring enough for him. But could it be so easy? They were quite heated with each other, so the answer is-

"Of course." It's delivered with a softened tone, like she should've known already. As long as she was determined to get herself hurt, he couldn't fight her. And that made him a jerk in her eyes, and so on. This was just the opportunity he was waiting for, but didn't honestly expect to come around. He's more than happy to let things settle. Besides, it was big of her to come to him.

"Are you, uh... safe to hug?" His head tilts slightly and he surveys her in her bed. The wristwrap he's aware of. But now he's looking for anything that might cause problems around the neck area. It's weird to ask that question, but he doesn't want to risk aggravating an injury.

The question took her off guard. "Huh? Oh." Amy rolled her eyes. She made a brushing motion toward Drake to get him to scoot back, then gingerly got to her feet. Then she held her arms out for him to fit himself into. "C'mere, you big softie."

Once the hug resolved, she got back in bed- it was warm and comfortable in there. Just then, the nurse returned, carrying two brightly colored containers and two equally garish plastic spoons. Perfect timing. "Amy-san." She lifted her right hand. "Tart." Then her left. "Blueberry." She placed them on the nightstand with a polite smile, then turned to leave. "Thank you!" Amy called after her. Then she turned to Drake, smiling. "Let's toast our renewed friendship, then. Your pick." Amy paused. "As long as it's not tart."

Drake scooches back a step and, to his surprise, she simply stands again. He steps forward into her arms and slips his around her waist in turn. He's in no hurry to let her go - this is him, releasing the past negativity in certain finality. She even gets a quiet, contented, "Mmn."

And then, "Don't you tell anyone," at a more playful level.

The hug finishes up, and Drake steps back from her. And no sooner does this seem to happen than the door opens, and... what did the nurse bring in? Icecream? Slushes? ...FroYo? He bets it's the latter. It would so be Amy. "Psh, tart. Like I want my face scrunched up like a raisin." With a grin, he takes both containers and passed the one designated as "tart" and passed it to Amy. A spoon follows. The berry container, along with one vibrantly-colored spoon, is kept in his hands.

"I'm glad you texted."

Amy's grin was giddy as she dug her spoon into her frozen yogurt. "I am too." She took a spoonful and savored it, as well as the cozy quiet in the room. Things were almost as comfortable as they used to be.

She popped the spoon out of her mouth and raised a cheeky eyebrow. "You sure got here fast. What did you think had happened?"

Drake, meanwhile, is just fishing the spoon around in the yogurt. It still feels a little odd to him - not an unpleasant odd, but like he doesn't want to take it at face value just yet. It's almost too nice a turn. But her question gives him ample excuse to mask his concerns.

"Honestly? I thought maybe something was broken. And... maybe you were told you'd never wrestle again. And that you were gonna be shipped off." His dark eyes shift aside from her. "Couldn't help it, though! You made it seem so severe!"

Amy's next spoonful of froyo was nearly at her mouth when Drake's concerns made her burst into laughter, forcing her spoon to retreat to safe distances. "Which part was severe? And I don't know what kind of crazy visa you're on," Amy managed between laughs. "But I'm pretty sure they'll let me stay in Japan even if I do break something." Then she settled down and ushered in her next bite. Drake was right to be on edge; she hadn't yet said everything that she was planning to say. But it so felt good to be on the far side of drama again that she was dragging her feet a little on part two.

She couldn't put it off forever though. Her cup came down to her lap. "Though, it could have been that bad, I guess. You know King?" She waved her wrist at Drake again. "This is from him. Not from a match, either; he and I fought in the middle of the night in a construction site." She raised a preemptive hand to quell any comments. "Pretty stupid, I know. But that's when it really hit me that I was stupid to get mad at you for holding back. Because that guy fought like I wanted you to fight, and if I weren't so goddamned amazing I might have had to text you from inside a full-body cast."

Drake gives Amy a skeptical look at her incredulous, boisterous laughter. "A work visa," he points out. If he isn't working, he gets shipped home. No free rides. "What, did you marry someone out here already? Damn, girl, you move faaast~..."

He finally plunks the spoon into the container and starts to stir. It's preliminary to actually eating it, see. But that gets abandoned when she goes into storytime. His expression sours as he stares at her. But what he says might surprise her - after all, it isn't directed at her, "That guy's a psycho. And now they've handed him a belt. Unbelievable. See, that's what I was talkin' about with Patty. You think that's the kind of person we should be holding on laurels? Tsh." He looks back down to the brightly-colored yogurt. "I'm really glad you didn't get hurt any worse."

Amy blinked. "Right. Work visa. Me too." Amy ate another spoonful of yogurt. "I forget sometimes that everyone else is here to be a wrestler, and they'd bop off on home if they couldn't do that any more. Me, I'm here to sight see, so it wouldn't be a huge deal picking up a job doing something else. My bad."

Amy agreed. "Total psycho. You wouldn't believe the shit he was muttering to himself when he thought I couldn't hear him. And, thanks, I'm glad too. The thing is..." Amy took a deep breath. "I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be opposed to fighting him again. Not in some random anonymous construction site, but like, in a hardcore match. With a ref." She motioned with her spoon. "Somewhere I could tap if it ever got too bad. And I would, too, believe it or not. Submit, I mean. I've been on the other end of that now, fighting somebody who would rather risk injury than tap, and it's not someplace I'd ever choose to be again. Not that King would appreciate the gesture, but still." Her spoon dug into her rapidly shrinking pile of yogurt again. "Who's Patty?"

"Girl who interviewed me. And then wrestled me." Saying it like that comes out weird to him, but Drake isn't focused on Patty right now. Amy's said a mouthful.

"I think..." He hesitates and frowns. His eyes lower a moment, then lift to her again. "Scoot." To better indicate what he means, he wags a spoon at her. Should she oblige, he moves to the edge of her bed and leans back beside her. "I know some of the things he's done in the ring, and the idea of him doing those things to you makes me sort'a... sick. But... I'm not gonna tell you to hold back. I'm definitely not gonna tell you to hide from'em. And I think, with the way things went, you're due some payback. If the time comes, beat him senseless. Make it count."

If she's serious about learning her limits and protecting herself, there's no reason to cull her back. She's tough - durable, at least. And she's here to fight, not hide. Amy could use support, not shackles. Though given his tone of voice and obvious apprehension, it's probably clear that he's at least worried for her.

"You said you were on the other side of it?"