Are You #&@%ing Insane?

Blaise exhales a little sigh and tucks his face against his knees again as he weathers the storm of her cold rationale. That's why she's here right now; to tell him he can't do this. To tell him he sucks. That, even with her running defense, he doesn't have a chance. Coming from other people, he might have been quicker to scoff. But this is coming from the person he's taken to view as his best friend. It's pretty hurtful.

The berating has worn him down and withered his spirit away. His head lifts finally, turning a pair of glassy eyes onto her. His voice is chipped, wounded. "Don't do this to me, Amy..."

It’s not like this conversation was easy for Amy, either. She’d said a lot of things she knew would hurt, phrased to dig in deep and stick. But she was entirely convinced that she was right. She had every confidence that Mako would rip Blaise to shreds in a straight fight, and she was also sure that Mako would have failsafes in place to guarantee that Mako would come out on top. If Blaise didn’t see that by now, his ignorance had to be willful.

So when Blaise turned to her, pleading for her to say something that he wanted to hear, she lost her temper.

“Do what?” she snapped suddenly. “Stop you from pissing away your dreams on a dare? Listen, Blaise, I’m not here to coddle you: the odds are pretty dismal. But even if you had a 90% chance of winning, even if this wasn’t something you dreamed about doing since you were a kid, this would be a stupid fucking thing to do. I don’t know why you’re still here sitting around moping instead of going to the producers and withdrawing from the match. Here,” Amy hooked Blaise under his arms and tried to lift him to his feet. “Get up. Get up!”

Confidence and support, going...

...going...

...gone.

Blaise's head lowers, crushed and numbed. She hooks his arm and pulls, but she'll find he's dead weight. By the second or third pull, however, something in him snaps. The teen jerks his arm away from her and twists aside, quickly scrambling to his feet.

His voice finds a new volume and intensity. "I'm not a loser!" There's a considerable amount of pain and betrayal behind those eyes, but it's accompanied with something new: fury. "And I'm gonna prove that to you! I'm gonna end this! Tonight! And if I don't?! Well, at least I tried! If I'm such a loser, my time here's gonna be full of nothing but failure anyway! At least this way I'll go down swinging and not a coward!"

His eyes are watering. He hopes she doesn't notice. He throws a finger towards the door. "Now get out! I don't need this! Not now! Not from you!"

When Blaise wrenched away from her, Amy stumbled backward, and, when she found her balance, Blaise had found his as well. Amy opened her mouth, but Blaise exploded before she could get any words out.

It was quite the experience, getting yelled at by Blaise. She'd never seen him angry before; it made Amy worry that she might have gone too far. But when she finally got over her shock and actually processed what he was yelling, his words translated to little more than blustery whines, and her gaze hardened. She stepped in close, brought up her arm, and jabbed an aggressive finger into Blaise's chest.

“'Coward?' Is that what you're afraid of, people thinking that you're running away? Fuck'em! And no one called you a loser here, Blaise. If that’s what you’re hearing, then that’s coming entirely from you, and that’s not the mindset you want to have when you’re gambling with your career.” Her hands came down in fists, and she had to work to keep her body from trembling.

“Yeah, you’ve got shit to prove. Not to me- you’ve never had to prove yourself to me- but to your family, and to yourself. If you go out there and lose, though, then you’ll never have that chance. All that’ll happen is that your fans will miss you and Suzumi will miss you and I’ll miss you and the Camerons back in Florida will shake their heads and wonder if this time you’ll finally come to your senses and give up this silly pro-wrestling fantasy of yours. Is that what you want? Huh? Is that what you fucking want?” Her last word was punctuated with a quick shove to Blaise's chest. Amy tried her best to control her breathing; it was hard with her throat as tight as it was.

Her refusal to leave gives her more time to notice the damage that's been done, and he doesn't want that; he hates that. And those bullying prods and pushes are grating on him. Each one forces him to flinch back a step, but stokes the fire in his eyes.

"I know it's not the mindset I need! That's why I want you out!" Not that it makes a difference at this point. He's a wreck. He's already bottomed out. "And if you're so convinced I'm going to lose, I do have something to prove! And this is that chance!" On the last emphasized word, he counters her push - a hand shoves out at her shoulder while the other points at the door.

"Now get! OUT!" By this point, his frame is rising and falling heavily as he seethes.

Her jaw set. Her normally bright blue eyes glittered dark. Her fists clenched and unclenched. She could do it; she could beat him up. She could shove Blaise toward the locker room bench; it would catch the back of his knees, make the idiot topple over backwards, and put him in prime position for a ground and pound. From there, it was a simple matter of punching him out and withdrawing from the match as his proxy.

But, if Blaise wasn’t convinced at this point, then she knew that she wouldn’t be able to change his mind. Blaise was at least as stubborn as she was; this was the man she couldn’t submit, despite having his arm on the verge of breaking. She’d already done heavy damage, here, yes, and he was clearly on the verge of crying. But if she imposed her will on him by force, the harm to their relationship might cross over into the irreparable. He might lose his dream job tonight, but there were other feds in Japan, and, more importantly, at least they’d still be friends.  

Energy rose like steam from her shoulders, but her demeanor fell cold. She crossed her arms and fixed him with one last frigid glare, betraying no emotion but anger. She could cry later.

“Fine.” She turned on her heel and made for the door. It opened; she walked through. Once on the other side, she had one last thing to say. “Dumbass.” Then the door shut.

Instantly, Amy deflated; her breath came out in shuddering gasps, and she needed to take a moment with her hands over her face to get herself right. She didn't know if she was making the right move by letting Blaise have his way, but she was sure of one thing: she needed a nap. She made for another locker room, one she knew to have a clean bed. On the way, she continued to fume. Army and his year of drinks. Blaise and his job. What was it about guys and bets with absurdly high stakes? Challenge a dude to a pissing contest, and he'll whip his dick out so fast he'll get friction burn. Men are so fucking stupid.

The door shuts, and after a beat, a loud BANG! sounds from the other side.

The bench rests in its new position, toppled down against the door. Blaise is glad she left. He was at his wits' end. His nerves couldn't handle it anymore. He needed a physical outlet. Shoving the bench at the door was enough to dull the pain, if only for a few seconds.

And then, he caves.

Shoulder hits the lockers, and the teen sinks into a ball again. His arms loop his shins, and his face buries into his knees. He breathes deeply, heavily, hoping to soothe himself. His emotions are a wreck. He feels sick. It's not in his nature to lash out, and he doesn't want to try to justify it - not to her, or to himself. He just wants it to stop. But he can't not have this match. If he can end things here, no one else has to get jumped, no one else gets screwed.

His time in Tension will mean something.

Suzumi was running out to her car, dailing Blaise on her cell phone as she jumped in and gunned it out of the parking lot. "Come on... come on, answer!" Suzumi shouted at her phone, hoping Blaise could magically hear her plea somehow. She just saw him accept an insane match on TV which was bad. What was worse was the fact that Suzumi was a few hours away.... she had to hurry if she wanted to have any shot at getting to the Tension arena in time to be there for the fight.

The phone rang forever it seemed, Suzumi hoping Blaise would pick up and talk to her, to tell her what he was thinking. "Baby, pick up the phone!" She continued to say out loud as she began her road trip, hoping to at least talk to Blaise for a while before she arrived.

The air is silent, filled only with the moderately raspy sound of his own breathing. He's on the verge of breaking down. Maybe he should. It's better he let it out now than to delay and let it erupt just before the match - or worse, in it. That's the sort of thing Mako would tear into.

Suddenly, ocean sounds begin emanating from his locker. It's a nerdy ringtone, and one only he is likely to understand, but he definitely knows who's calling. She couldn't have had worse timing. He's barely keeping it together as it is. But then, maybe talking to her would help.

"H-hey, Suzumi," comes Blaise's voice at last. It's subdued, thoroughly lacking all the telltale signs that it's actually Blaise on the other line.

Suzumi was happy to hear his voice, although Blaise sounded like hell. "Baby... are you all right? What happened out there?" Suzumi asked. She didn't want to immediately start shouting at him, it wasn't her style especially given his voice. Did he realize what he did?

Suzumi quietly waited for Blaise to answer, wanting to hear his side of things. From Suzumi's standpoint it seemed as if Blaise acted irrationally. He was trying to stand up to a bully which she understood, but he let himself lose the mental battle. Mako baited him, and he bit. Still, Suzumi was known for being a bit of a hot-headed individual and could hardly blame Blaise for doing what he did...... even if Suzumi herself was worried sick.