Bright's Out! (Estelle Bright vs Gilbert Stein)

"Sorry, didja say something? Couldn't hear you over all this 'winning' I'm currently doing!" Estelle winked down at the opponent under her. She'd been making easy work of him so far, and as her body crashed down upon Gilbert's exposed abs, she actually thought a 3 count this early on was a very real possibility here. She watched with concentrated eyes as the referee's hand clapped the mat once...twice...! Her heart skipped a beat. Had she really done it? This early, and this easily? That notion came as quickly as it had appeared, wiped away as Gilbert threw an arm up and thrusted his shoulder upwards to break the pin. "Dammit...!" Her gaze was thrown to the nearby turnbuckle, and she glanced down at the foppish frenchman. Then to the turnbuckle. Then back down to him.

An impish smirk began to spread across the girl's lips. "Well, when this has been such a cakewalk already...why not?" The girl pushed herself up, giving Gilbert's cheek a couple of light pats. "Fun as it is beating you up, there comes a point when it just becomes sad, y'know? So let me take pity on you and end it here and now!" Estelle would then practically leap over to the corner, beginning to ascend the ropes until she was balanced just over the top of the metal pole. The unsteady rhythm of the ropes causing her to bop up and down as the excitement of the crowd began to build to a crescendo, the firebrand holding a finger into the air to hype them up further. "Get your phones out folks, because you're about to see THE Cassius Bright's daughter win her first match! Remember to tell your friends and family where you were at this moment!" The girl seemed more caught up trying to psyche up the crowd for the moment, rather than focusing upon her presumed down and out target below...

Even within Gilbert's justifiably discombobulated mindset, correlations were beginning to be noticed between the blood-feuding competitors. In particular Gilbert's insistence on correcting and instructing the twin-tailed spitfire and her obstinate insistence on disregarding his sage words of wisdom. The currently Flattened Frenchman knew perfectly well that she could hear him considering their close proximity after dynamically splashing across him, now swathed in her warmth in the pin attempt narrowly circumvented by her adversary's split second upheaval. Unknowingly denying Estelle the acclaim of a record-breaking victory, albeit one that was impending regardless considering the abject ownage being displayed from the unadulterated ease with which Estelle was dominating the proceedings. A rallying warcry swirled about behind the Bright daughter's shellacking of her foe as she jaunted towards the turnbuckle.

"HrrrGh...BlArGh...DiD...soMeoNe meNtiOn cAke?" Gilbert, meanwhile in the background, was beginning to wearily arise back up to a seated position, inadvertently thanks to Estelle's patronizing patting against his cheeks jostling him awake. The aftereffects of the running bulldog cramming him upon his forehead were beginning to dissipate thankfully although his swirling irises remained and perfectly exemplified the manner in which the room was still continuing to spin. The audience was nevertheless roused up into an enthusiastic fervor by Estelle's top rope theatricality, vehemently believing with cheering adulation that she had this lopsided match in the bag. Except until Gilbert began sluggishly ascending on uneven footing, a drunken stance taken as the frazzled frenchman started crossing over his own feet in an uncoordinated stumble towards the adjacent ring ropes. Instinctively snagging onto them to keep himself upright, but jostling them ferociously in the process...

Honestly, this entire match had been so easy thus far that it was trivial in Estelle's eyes. Defeating a chump as foppish as Gilbert wasn't exactly the most noteworthy win, but it would nonetheless be a satisfying one. If only to shut the Frenchman's constant yapping like a dog that didn't know when to stop barking. As Estelle raised her finger into the air and gazed around the audience, she felt the unwavering attention of the crowd upon her, cameras flashing throughout the arena. What better way to seal her future as the successor to the Bright legacy, making pro wrestling history just as her father had done? This would be all over social media by the end of the night.

Suddenly, the ropes jostled under her! "Huh?!" The girl was dragged out of her thoughts and back into the reality of the ring, as she spotted her adversary snagging onto the ropes! She'd knocked him for such a loop that he grabbed them ferociously, seemingly not even realising what he was inadvertently doing to her balance! "H-Hey, get away from there! Shoo!" Her legs wobbled due to the unsteady rhythm of the ropes, and before she knew it, Estelle was toppling from them onto the canvas below! "W-Whoa!!"

WHAM. With a sharp cry of "Oof!!", Estelle landed squarely upon her head, which took the brunt of her fall. Her body briefly raised up before flopping down, leaving the girl to stare upwards towards the skylights. Her skull was ringing painfully, and there was a vacant look in her eyes. That...was a hard fall. A painful one. The effects might not be immediately clear, but she certainly wasn't going to be rising back up onto her feet anytime soon. Not by her own will, anyway.

Not since Gilbert's last wine-tasting excursion had the Blue-Haired Blueblood been this distinctly inebriated and foppishly befuddled. Gilbert lost amidst a belligerent world of swirling distortions and warbled audience chatter until mercifully grasping onto the tethered lifeline that was the top rope. Breathing heavily with emphatic blinking in between cradling his forehead as the beleaguered Frenchman struggled to straighten out his muddled eyesight. Gilbert being positively perturbed and addlepated, excuse the obscenity, from this contemptible harlot taking such uncivilized liberties throughout the course of her unwarranted and unearned momentary advantage. Blathering on about her father's inane training regimen in regards to feeling and experience. Pure poppycock, he says. All while slandering his own cultured and gentlemanly wrestling training in the process. The sheer nerve of this Bright scoundrel!!!

Gilbert ruefully concocting his own vengeance-fueled countermeasures in order to swerve the match's momentum back in his own refined favor...incompetently unaware of what was transpiring behind him all throughout. All eyes within the audience being fixated on the Bright daughter's jubilant posturing and subsequent anti-climactic downfall upon the crown of her head. The enthusiastic wind being sucked right out of the arena in one fell pratfall that Gilbert was nevertheless none the wiser to as he started making headway in regaining a steadied posture. The Frenchman resolute in regaining traction in this match even while he staggered onward with squinting vision and hand on the back of his head. Jelly for leg muscles as he lurched around until he'd accidentally cross one foot over the other and plummet downward with his face brutally crammed into the sweet spot between Estelle's legs for a flopping foppish headbutt where everyone dreads to receive one. Prince or pauper.

That fall to the canvas was hard on her skull. And the effects were clearly showing itself. Estelle's eyes were glazed over, shimmering like glass. Her head was numb, and foggy at the same time. Lying down like this, exposed and vulnerable, her arrogant opponent is at his leisure to do whatever he desires next to her. Her vision shakes back and forth, as she catches sight of the French nobleman shuddering into view, not helped by the fact that her adversary was also unsteady upon his feet.

So unsteady, in fact, that he would imminently trip over his two left feet. And nail the unprepared Estelle in her most sensitive of spots for a brutal headbutt! "Owwww!!" The girl would make her pain well known to the masses and her foe with a sharp, shrill screech that would echo around the arena. "J...Jerk...!" To her, the move had been a calculated, purposeful assault and not the blunder of a fool who also had trouble deducing where he currently was. But either way, Estelle's crotch was throbbing with pain, and her legs were reduced to quivering jelly. All while Gilbert remained nestled between her legs.

Unfortunately for Estelle, the official didn't share in the Bright sister's assumption that Gilbert's muff dive was an intentional disregard for the rules considering his drunken inebriation beforehand. And therefore the referee was unable to issue a disqualification unless flagrant intent was observed to be behind it. Chalking it up as an unhappy coincidence on Estelle's behalf that she'd be on the receiving end of such a thick-skulled nitwit. Speaking of, Gilbert huffed heated belligerence against the warmth he'd become nuzzled up comfortably against betwixt Estelle's thighs until ending the provocative imagery by beginning to rise up to his knees of his own accord. Bewildered disorientation on the flustered Frenchman's visage as his head swirled for a second until jostling his vision straight once more, than taken aback by the twin-tailed beauty now languishing miserably in a helpless state.

"Eh?! What in blue blazes..." Gilbert gawked down at the languishing Bright sister with no recollection as to how they ended up trading predicaments, although he seemed eager to capitalize and make bold assumption in spite of the exact details escaping him. "W-Well Well, the tide has certainly turned now that I've begun taking this match seriously, hasn't it?" Gilbert snidely mocked as he arose but carrying Estelle with him, arms tightened around her waist with the back of her knees hooked over his shoulders. Skirt flipped downward as she dangled upside down in a clear attempt at a piledriver...but Gilbert having miscalculated the strength in his legs, was now teetering forward with a last second hop and would pancake her into the canvas in an accidental Styles Clash. A confused audience baffled but nevertheless applauding at Gilbert displaying such wrestling prowess...