Can't We Be Friends?

Amy took the napkin and made a show of daintily dabbing at her fingers. "I've never met her, either, but she seems to know what she's doing in the ring. She..." How to put this delicately? "...sat on one of their faces. The..." How to describe the one that she sat on? "...sexy one." Amy shook her head. "It was just the type of match they were having. But it was a real fight up to then." Now the kicker. "The thing is, she was right on the edge of losing when their sexy one said something that really ticked her off. I don't know what it was, but it gave her, like, superpowers, and a death glare that could melt chocolate." Could Amy convince Blaise to get them a lava cake? Dessert is considered a part of the meal, after all. "Anyway, after that, she got bum rushed by the other two and got knocked out. If that were me, like you said, I'd be good and angry and itching for a chance to get back at them. What do you think?" She tore off another piece of thigh and ate it. Then she sucked her fingers and barbarically wiped them on her pants again, an defiant smile on her face.

It would have worked nicely, had it not come right after the mention of facesitting. Something about the idea of melty chocolate paired with asses conjures the wrong image. Eugh.

Blaise leans back in his chair and lifts a potato wedge. "She's one of those types, eh?," he muses. Given his indulgent, teasing behavior in his match with Emilia, he realizes he has little room to talk. But still! "Ah, either way, someone on our side is someone on our side! And if she Hulks the Hell out, that's just cherry." He bites a small chunk off the wedge, then adds, "We should give'er a shout-out. Or get'er number or something. Do you have'er number?"

Amy sat up straight and pulled back her imaginary sleeves. Then she held up a finger in one hand, her phone in the other, positioned to face her audience. With a deft swipe, contact information slid magically into view. "I've even got her home address if she doesn't pick up. But you're right," Amy turned her phone and dialed the number listed in the directory. "Call first." The phone came up to Amy's ear as the phone began to ring.

Mariko hadn’t quite been feeling like herself since Showdown. Yamato had handled their loss well enough, but for her it was a bit of a different story. A few days had passed since that match, and Mariko had spent them all cooped up in her apartment. But after a few days, she was starting to feel much better. And a trip down the that nice old jazz club down the street sounded more perfect now than it had since she’d been here in Kyoto.

She showered, got dressed, and was just starting to head for the door when her phone suddenly rang. “Hm...?” Holding up the phone, she saw number calling her was one she didn’t recognize. Who could possibly be calling? Well, only one way to find out. She answered the phone and held it up to her ear.

“Hello...?”

Amy held a hand over the receiver, which these days is the entire phone. She picked up! Amy mouthed quickly.

Her hand came away and her voice took on a bright, friendly tone. "Hello? Hi! My name's Amy. You don't know me, but I'm a Tension wrestler, like you. How's it going?"

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen a couple of your matches.” Mariko replied. She particularly remembered watching with enjoyment in one particular match in which Amy had pummeled Daisuke Takeuchi into unconsciousness. The memory drew a faint giggle from her lips. Though, she was still very curious as to why Amy had called her.

“Oh, I’m getting by, thanks. And you, Amy-chan?”

"I'm well, thank you very much for asking." Amy shot a look at Blaise. Maybe she should have thought a little about what she'd say before she made the call. She wasn't a Blaise Cameron, who could off-the-cuff whatever. "I know this is out of the blue, but a friend of mine and I would like to discuss something with you. Do you have a moment to talk today, in person?"

“Hmm...” Tapping her foot on the ground, Mariko thought it over for a moment. She had no idea what Amy or this friend of hers could possibly want to talk about with her. But, it did sound important. And it wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of company to talk to. “Alright then. I’m guessing you found my number in the directory, right? If so, my address should be there too. There’s a jazz bar right at the corner of that street. That’s where I’ll be in a few minutes. Drop on by whenever you’re ready, and I’ll be there. How’s that sound?”

If their roles were switched, and it was Mariko calling Amy for a favor instead, Amy would have refused. It wasn't that Amy had anything against Mariko, or even strangers in general, for that matter. She was just a little more wary of people who'd call her up and ask for an abrupt sit down, apropos of nothing. That's why her own directory entry was one of the barer ones; she didn't need her life interrupted in the way that she'd just interrupted Mariko's. Hypocritical, yes. But it seemed as though Mariko was a little less private than Amy was. Amy would go as far as to describe Mariko as gracious, even. Lucky.

Amy flashed a thumbs up at Blaise across the table. "That sounds great. Jazz bar on the corner of your street, got it. We're in the middle of lunch, so we'll be over in about forty-five minutes. Does that work for you?"

“Sounds wonderful. I’ll see you both then.” And with that, she hang up. Forty-five minutes was a long time to wait, but considering it meant she’d just have to sit back and listen to the band’s music the whole time more than made up for it. And besides, she was quite curious what these two wanted to discuss with her.

Heading out the door and locking it behind her, Mariko made her way down to the bar she’d specified, then found herself a table and took a seat facing the entrance so she could spot Amy and her friend whenever they arrived. She ordered a glass of wine for herself, then sat back and let the smooth jazz music sooth her like a massage at the spa while she waited patiently.