Games and Players (For snappleR)

...No, she could not.

But Blaise flashes her a fresh smile and starts to make his way through the arcade to the juice bar in question. Small, intimate tables with two larger seating arrangements for groups - those are the options. The counter at the far end of the wall is where a few patrons are already placing their orders, but Blaise sees no reason to crowd it or Amy. So Blaise opts for one of the smaller tables and hops into a seat. "Something exotic," he orders with an uplifted index finger. "Mango or something. Surprise me." Beat. "But nothing gross. No... fruit-of-spit or anything." His eyes squint at her, but that smile shifts into a more playful tone.

No, he doesn't authentically expect her to try to pull something. He's still joking around.

Amy knew exactly the sort of behavior that she would have wanted from Blaise if she had won: light annoyance, maybe a touch of defiance, but ultimate obedience, however reluctant.  However, Amy wasn't sure that she would have gotten that from him. He was just so easy going, graceful in losing and in winning. She wished that she hadn't had to knocked him out, that he'd submitted to her armbar during their match. Gracious Blaise was nice to be around.

Anyway, that was the sort of behavior that Amy portrayed, for Blaise's sake, even though her mood was excellent. She gave an exaggerated eyeroll and hunched her shoulders. "You got it. Would the Champion of the Universe like a small or large?" Then she smiled and straightened up. Once she'd received his answer, she would stand in line, considering the menu options.

She returned not long later, two drinks in her hands. One was bright blue, the color of the water on a Caribbean beach; the other, a deep dark red. "Your pick. Would the Champion of the Universe like a straw or a spoon?"

Amy's behavior strikes Blaise as wholly adorkable. She seems all frustrated, and yet she has to use that exhaustive title for the remainder of the day! Due to her own boasting! There's probably some lesson about hubris to be had here, but screw it. Blaise is just taking it for what it is, and enjoying the pageantry. It's incredibly rare he gets any sort of treatment like this. It's very different from having an audience cheer for you - it's knowing you won. But being on the losing end for so long so consistently keeps him grounded.

That and this really doesn't matter to him. He's just enjoying the company. Amy's fun; especially when she's not punching him in the face. Peppy, sporty, but... kind? She was saying something about an apology, and that's still eating away at his mind.

"Large, of course," teases the teen. And when she returns, he takes a moment attempting to select which one to go with. In the end, he picks the blue. Why? It's close to the color of the girl's eyes, and that makes him happy for whatever reason. Otherwise, he totally would've gone with red. "Straw," he adds, rolling his wrist to offer his empty palm. Sure, he isn't gloating, but he's totally happy to play along with the scenario.

Nice. Amy wanted the red one. She held out the straw, then took it back. "Ah, I should have asked this before. You're not allergic to anything, right? This is a Blue Hawaii, virgin of course, but it's got pineapple and coconut in it." She pointed to the red drink. "This one's just strawberry, banana, and berry juice." She handed the straw over. She would switch drinks with him if he wanted, but man, that red drink sounded just like Jamba Juice's Razzmatazz, and she wanted it.

Blaise almost gets the drink, but she steals it away! Defiance! And then he laughs when she asks. "No, no, I'm not allergic! Gimme!" He proceeds to make grabby wiggle-fingers until she turns the cup over. He snickers and leans back in his chair.

"Alright, so... Amy. What's this thing that you said has been bugging you? About our match?" Once the question is finally posed, he jams the straw into his mixture, puts the other end in his mouth, then innocently tilts his head at her.

Amy removed the top from her drink and took a long gulp. She was risking the brain freeze, but she wanted to collect her thoughts. Then she put the drink down and looked into Blaise's eyes.

"Okay. I'm sorry I blew up at you during our fight. That can't have been fun, especially not on your first match." She tore open her straw and fiddled with its paper wrapper. "I might have gone a little overboard after that. I was a little pissed, not just at you, but at something a friend of mine said. That had nothing to do with you, so I'm sorry about that, too." Though she'd been conflicted about what her friend had said after... but that wasn't relevant to her apology. Was that it? The apology felt pretty general, but she just wanted to make sure that her feelings of compunction were conveyed. She took another gulp of her drink.

"Oh..."

Blaise is a little taken back by the forthright apology. He certainly remembers the blowup. He remembers her going crazy on him. He definitely remembers her going Donkey Kong on his face because of it.

"Well, ah... I mean... you were kind'a right, I guess. My trainer chewed me out after that match. Even demanded I take a few days off to 'get my head on straight'. But sometimes the heart's more invested than the head. Does that make sense?"

He sets his cupp'a juice on the table and runs a hand through his hair. "But, look, Amy, I'm not mad at you. Tensions get high in the ring. We're pounding on each other, trying to beat each other up. Adrenaline gets going, and we can sometimes lose ourselves." A gentle smile touches his features. "Don't beat yourself up over it. If you do that, I'm out of a job."

"Thanks." Done. Apology over. Blaise wasn't mad, either, so things were even-steven between the two of them. But something was still bothering Amy. She couldn't put her finger on it.

Amy poked at her drink with her straw. "Did your trainer say why she- he?- was mad?"

Blaise seems to relax when Amy accepts his response, and he goes back to suckin' 'dat straw with happy-shut eyes. They open again when she poses her next question. The straw pops back out of his mouth.

"He. He, uh... basically said what you said. That I had to think about my career, that I need to take care of myself if I wanna have a future..." He sets a hand to the back of his neck and glances aside from her. "Sounded a little like what the general manager of my last fed' said. But, uh... yeah. It's hard to not give it your best." He steals a glimpse back up at the girl. "Y'know what I mean?"

That is to say, it's hard to not give it your best when it could mean your first win in over a year. The first win of your career.

Amy nodded. She thought so. And it sounded like he'd been hearing the same advice everywhere he's been; she hadn't been the first. Her irritation from the match started to grow again, but she kept it off of her face.

"I do get it. I'm all about giving your 100%. But I get what your trainer's saying. If giving my 100% in a match makes that match my last one, then, well, probably better to submit and be healthy for my next, don't you think?"