Games and Players (For snappleR)

The notion of having a match that goes in a particularly sensual direction, given that all of his opponents will be female, doesn't sound altogether too bad. But the fact that it would be... televised? In front of a crowd? That throws a whole new level of weird into it. Everyone would be, like, staring at his bits! Gawd. But Amy lets the topic shift onto... well, okay, that subject change isn't much better.

"They... refuse to watch me," repeats Blaise, unsure how to better clarify it. "They don't want anything to do with it. Mom told me once that they didn't like seeing me get beat up." He takes a slow draw from the juice, his gaze dropping to the pale blue concoction. His expression is muddied in rare dejection - their opinion matters. "So they're gonna miss it when I win."

Amy put a comforting arm around Blaise's lower back, saddened about the cloud over his expression; he seemed like he really cared about his family. But her mind was hard at work trying to allay her confusion behind her bright blue eyes. Didn't he just have his debut match with her? I mean, sure, he lost pretty badly, but it wasn't like he was awful; she even picked up a few tricks from that fight. It's kind of fucked up of his mom to assume that he'd lose straight off the bat... but I guess any mom would hate to see her boy taking any sort of damage. Oh wait, did he mention a GM in a previous federation? "Wait, how long have you been a wrestler for?"

Blaise doesn't shy back from the human contact. He simply places a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it over, as if attempting to coax his mind into focusing on something else. Anything else would be a more pleasant topic. Her question draws him out of his quiet, though, earning his gaze.

"Huh? Oh. Like, a year. Trained for a while before that, but I've been pro for about a year. You were my first match here in Japan."

"Oh." Blaise had months of in-ring experience on her- maybe even a full year! If his family wasn't watching his fights, was his match with her about how well they were all going for him?

Amy didn't know what to say. She just squeezed him tighter. "Well fuck, guess you're just going to have to start winning then, show'em what's what."

Some might consider Amy's comment to be a little backhanded. But does Blaise? Heck no. In fact, it seems to perk him up. A small smile blossoms on his face, which soon grows into full-fledged cheerfulness again.

"That's the idea!," he chirps. "Every loss is a lesson, and every lesson is improvement! I keep running into some really talented, tough competitors, and that's exactly what I want. You don't grow if you don't struggle, and you won't get tougher without challenge!"

He tilts his hips to lightly bump Amy. "I plan on showing them, the people here, and the whole world! Of course this means I'm eventually gonna have to come back for you..."

Amy laughed, detaching herself from Blaise's back. She reached up with her hand and mussed Blaise's hair. It pained her a little to mess up something so well-maintained, but she had to admit: it even felt nice. "I'm all for your rise to power, champ, but anytime you and I fight, nothing's gonna change. My fists just feel right at home in your torso." She brought her hand down and made a fist against Blaise's abs to demonstrate. "See? They just like it too much in there." Then she withdrew her hands completely, a sparkle in her eyes. "But I'm all for you taking down the other girls in Tension. I might even come out and cheer for you."

"Pfft," scoffs Blaise as her fist comes to rest against his midsection. "Any excuse to touch the abs, right?" His eyes match her in terms of mirthful sparkles. He likes her; she's got a great attitude, she's fun, and-

Wait, she mussed his hair.

Blaise spares a moment to run a hand through the hair. It's boyishly messy as is, but it's his kind of boyishly messy. Not that dancing, flipping around, or wrestling won't mess it up, but still. It's a habit.

"But if you wanna cheer me on, I'd be thrilled to have ya." From the sound of his voice and the softening of his smile, one might surmise he actually means that - not an idle nod to an equally idle gesture. Losing to someone sucks in a lot of ways, but being supported by that same person is a great feeling.

Amy swung lightly at the abs in question. "Get over yourself, hotshot. Yours aren't bad, but I've hit harder."

Amy straightened up. "Alrighty then. Count me a fan. I'll keep up with your name, watch your matches, buy a t-shirt when you get some printed. Maybe I'll even agree to a rematch someday." Amy was trying not to make it obvious that she was keeping track of Blaise's drink level, but damn he sure was taking his time with it. Was he even thirsty, or did he just want that free drink? "Betcha can't chug the rest of your drink without getting brain freeze."

Amy's fist butts into his midsection, earning a little grunt and tilt of his body. "Whatever, whatever!"

Indeed, Blaise hasn't been drinking too much. He's been too engaged in the conversation! In a bizarre way, she could maybe take it as a compliment. But then she displays a certain finesse when dealing with someone of Blaise's personality type: "Oh, I so can!"

The cup is tipped and the chugging commences. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Breathe. Gulp.

"Done!"

Beat.

His expression twists, clearly attempting to suppress the external evidence of the painful, unique ache of what can only be a brain-freeze.

Amy watched as Blaise poured the rest of his drink down his throat. Typical guy. But when he came up for air, he seemed just fine.

For a second.

First his eye twitched. Then the corner of his mouth began to tremble. Then his eyes screwed half-shut. Soon his entire expression began to contort. There was clearly a battle being fought on his face, between the forces of natural consequence and his own tremendous human stubbornness. Amy had trouble keeping back her laughter. "Damn, champ, you sure showed me." She held up a hand in front of Blaise's mouth. "Haaah... there you go, you got it. Haaah..."