★ 𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙑𝙄𝙉𝙂 & 𝙎𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙄𝙉𝙂

It kinda shocked him to the core to hear her say such a thing so abruptly. That wasn't Chelsea, or at least the woman he has been getting to know here recent. Yes, Mox could admit he tends to ramble on and on about things sometimes. He digs talking on weird shit like Bigfoot sightings because you can really see into others minds that way. Conspiracy talks show how out of the box a person is or how chained to boring norm they are. What didn't make sense is her pretty much telling him to get out in the midst of their hangout session. But Jon stood from his chair with hands up to attempt to lighten the mood; "Shit, a'right, uh.. something I said??" The older man backed up a couple steps before lowering hands to stuff in jean pockets. So many thoughts swirling around in his noggin without one single reason pin pointed. "Whatever it is, m'sorry. I'll leave if ya want me to."

chelsea huffs out a quiet breath when she hears the teasing edge creep back into his voice, some of the tension melting out of her shoulders almost immediately. her eyes roll fondly at the “goober” comment, and she shakes her head like she’s trying very hard not to smile too much.

“yeah, yeah… don’t get too cocky,” she mutters, nudging his arm lightly before he can fully retreat to the door. “ten minutes. maybe fifteen if my brain decides to keep being dramatic. but don’t go disappearing on me, okay? i meant what i said this isn’t a ‘run away forever’ situation.” her tone is softer now, more grounded, the earlier sharpness gone.

she leans back against the counter, arms folding loosely as she watches him with a small, grateful look she doesn’t try too hard to hide. “and for the record? you didn’t overwhelm me. my brain just does this thing where it hits a wall and suddenly everything feels too loud even stuff i actually like. you talking about bigfoot is… weirdly comforting, honestly.” a faint smile tugs at her lips again.

as his hand rests on the knob, she adds a little more seriously, “thanks for not making it weird. or… more weird than we already are.” then, because she can’t help herself, her voice lifts just a touch. “now go. take your conspiracies and your scruffy sass and give me a few minutes to reset and maybe come back with a new theory. i think we already solved bigfoot last time.”

chelsea's mouth drops open in offended disbelief, her free hand flying straight to her chest like rhea just personally insulted her entire bloodline.

"wow," she says into the phone, angling it slightly toward rhea like she's documenting a betrayal. "did everyone hear that? the lack of compassion? the complete disregard for a critically injured national treasure?"

she finally lowers the phone a little bit, eyes narrowing as rhea looks at her ankle. chelsea instinctively shifts her weight... then immediately winces just enough to be dramatic about it.

"okay, it is emotionally broken," she insists, pointing down at it like that explains everything. "and spiritually fractured. and honestly? the vibes around it are terrible. medical science is still catching up to what i'm going through."

her nose scrunches at the mention of sitting down. "i refuse to sit in a regular chair like some kind of.. civilian. if i'm going to suffer, i'm going to suffer luxuriously. there is a difference."

chelsea pauses, eyeing rhea a little more closely now; the edge in her voice softening for half a second before she covers it with a dramatic sigh.

"...and for the record," she adds, quieter but still theatrical, "i was going to get it scanned. but management keeps trying to make me ‘calm down’ and ‘stop sending voice notes longer than ten minutes,’ which is extremely invalidating during a medical crisis.”

she reaches out slower this time while nudging the iced coffee back toward herself.

“also… you didn’t pull away immediately,” chelsea points out, a smug little smile tugging at her lips. “which means you care at least… this much.” she pinches her fingers together dramatically.

then, squaring her shoulders, she lifts her chin.

“fine. you’re not team chelsea,” she says, already dialing the drama back up. “you’re… team reluctant medical supervision. which honestly sounds like someone who should walk me to medical so i don’t collapse tragically in the hallway. again.”

chelsea’s breath hitches the second she tries to put weight on it; not a dramatic little wince this time, but a sharp, involuntary sound she can’t quite swallow down. her hand tightens on rhea’s sleeve, grip suddenly real, knuckles paling as she freezes mid-step.

“…okay,” she mutters, voice thinner than she wants it to be, eyes flicking down to her ankle with a flash of actual panic. the bravado cracks for just a second. “that… that didn’t feel like vibes. that felt like-” she cuts herself off with a shaky laugh that doesn’t land.

she tries another step and immediately sucks in a breath, shoulders hunching as the pain spikes. the iced-coffee-and-sass routine drops away; she leans heavier into rhea without meaning to, jaw tight. “i… i think something’s actually wrong,” she admits, quieter now, frustration and fear tangling together under the words.

still, because she’s chelsea, she forces a weak little smirk up at rhea. “so… hypothetically speaking… if a national treasure needed to be half-carried to medical right now… that offer still stand?” her voice wavers despite the joke, one hand gripping rhea’s arm for real balance this time as she stops trying to pretend she can walk it off.

There's no accounting for some people's choices.

chelsea pauses mid–sip of her iced coffee, lowering her sunglasses just enough to squint at him like he’s personally inconvenienced her entire day. “okay… first of all - hi? hello? do we know each other? because you just opened with cryptic reality-show confessional energy and I’m trying to keep up,” she says, tilting her head with exaggerated curiosity. she leans one hip against the counter, manicured nails tapping lightly. “and yes, i have been spending time with ethan, thank you very much. it’s going great, actually - lots of charm, lots of chaos, very on-brand for me.” her eyes flick up and down him, assessing. “but you? mysterious eyebrow-less stranger? you’re gonna have to give me a name, a résumé, and maybe a warning label before we start gossiping like we’re besties.” a small smirk tugs at her lips. “because right now it feels like i just got pulled into someone else’s family drama without even signing a contract… and i always read the fine print first.”

"Me too- good instincts." He doesn't extend a hand for a shake. That's for the best, most likely. "We haven't met, actually, which is a shame, because I'm from Ontario. Josh Alexander. Tagged with your boytoy back during his Impact days. Life took us in different directions. You want to talk family drama, though, I've got plenty of that for you, too. But this? No, no, no...This is more of a life went in different directions situation."

Kurt Angle from Wish over here, sure, but despite whatever cranial trauma led to him adopting headgear (unless it's a style choice?), he seems sharp. The kind of sharp where you can't quite tell if he's going to bite or have another joke waiting in the wings to fire off.

The worst part? This is him trying to be friendly. Cordial.

It's not working.

chelsea’s lips twitch like she’s deciding whether to laugh or file a restraining order - and honestly? it’s a coin toss for a second there. she slides her sunglasses all the way down her nose, peering at him over the top like she’s inspecting a suspicious return at customer service.

“josh alexander,” she repeats slowly, rolling the name around like she’s testing the flavor. “ontario… impact… mysterious ‘not-family-drama-but-also-definitely-drama’ energy. okay, i’m tracking now.” she takes another slow sip of her iced coffee, completely unbothered on the surface, even if her eyes are still clocking every little twitch in his grin. “and for the record? ‘boytoy’ is a strong word. i prefer ‘tastefully selected chaos companion.’ sounds more professional on paper.”

she shifts a little closer, voice dropping just enough to keep things playful but pointed. “but since you came in hot with the interrogation vibes? i’ll play along. life going in different directions happens - i get that. i mean… have you met this industry? one day you’re sharing rides and gossip, next thing you know you’re side-eyeing each other from across catering like divorced parents at a school play.” her smirk widens, eyes glinting. “so what’s the real question here, josh? are you checking in on ethan?”

chelsea felt her heart skip a beat when she saw randy's hand raise in a wave. not a casual nod, not a "hey, passing by" wave - this was the kind of wave that said he actually wanted to talk. she froze for a split second, blinking at him like, wait, is this real life? then, with a confident smirk tugging on her lips, she squared her shoulders and started walking over.

by the time she was close enough to actually meet his gaze, her grin had turned playful, teasing. "well, hey there," she said, tilting her head just slightly, letting that trademark chelsea sass shine through. "didn't think the apex predator had time for little ol' me, unless... you're here to tell me i can't keep emailing triple h my grievances. if that's the case, then..." she let the sentence hang for a beat while leaning closer. "i guess i'll just have to start cc'ing you, won't i? make sure you know every little thing i'm plotting for the greater good of this place. maybe having the locker room leader siding with me would do some good."

Randy was still getting used to being the locker room leader. The Viper at first reluctant to be said leader, but he learnt that he was the best choice. He was one of the original people left from the generation before.  Randy bites the inside of his cheek. He did want to talk. He made a small shrug.

“ If you need anything from me let me know! I am not the locker room leader for the girls though.. I think it’s Becky.” Randy muttered. 

chelsea’s smirk softened for just a second at randy’s words; not enough to lose the attitude, but enough to show she actually heard him. she shifted her weight onto one hip, arms folding loosely as she looked him up and down, clearly amused. “oh? locker room leader and handing out compliments now?” she teased, tapping her chin like she was seriously considering his offer. “careful, randy… people might start thinking you’re going soft on me.”

she stepped a little closer, lowering her voice just enough to feel conspiratorial. “but don’t think i didn’t catch that - you saying i’ve got leadership skills? i mean… obviously,” she tossed her hair over her shoulder with dramatic flair, “someone around here has to keep things interesting. becky can handle the responsible leadership stuff while i’ll just handle fashion critiques. balance, you know?” her eyes sparkled as she nudged his arm lightly. “and don’t worry… if i need backup, i’ll call. though if you start rko’ing people on my behalf, i expect full credit in the post-match interview.” she grinned wider, clearly enjoying the banter. “so… locker room leader, you waved me down. what did you really want to talk about?”