Post by TheLostBoys on Feb 23, 2017 9:43:25 GMT
There ain't no party like a Sam Braxton celebrating a victory in the IWF in New Orleans party.
It was as if someone had flipped a switch. For the most part the public reception of the lost Boys following their victory over Will Peterson and Dorian Hawkhurst had changed significantly. The jeers and jokes had halted, or at the very least lessened, and now they were being showered with praise and adulation. Though that could also be the considerable amount of alcohol that had gone around.
Dean Coulter knew how duplicitous and fickle the generic wrestling fan was, so put little stock in their current perception. Sam Braxton either didn't know, or didn't care. Either way he was taking full advantage of the situation, having received many free drinks and many phone numbers.
"Wow ease up there party animal." Sam staggered over to join Dean at his table. The glass in front of Dean was full, full with water. Though he wasn't opposed wholesale to the consumption of alcohol, he just wasn't really feeling it. Besides with the rate of Sam's consumption he had a feeling sober intervention would be needed at some point.
"What are you doing over here? You're disappointing you're crazed fan base. Did I see that red-head asking you to sign her chest?"
"This may be the home of the ignorant but my god they know how to show appreciation to their celebrities."
"Glad you're enjoying yourself."
"And why not? We finally managed that first step! We finally proved them wrong! Isn't it glorious?!" Dean's response was a half smile and slight tip of his water glass. "Ah shit sorry. I'm talking shop again when it's a time to celebrate. But here. Before I get too wasted and forget I was going to do something."
"Do what? You're not going to try and make out with me are you? I mean you got that red-head over there."
"Aaaaw dude, you're making it weird. Ruining the moment and everything. Just...here..."
From his pocket Sam produced an envelope and offered it to Dean. He eyed both the 'gift' and Sam warily before accepting the offer examining its contents. It was a place-ticket back to Sydney, Australia. It didn't happen often but Dean was a little surprised and taken a-back.
"What's this?"
"A plane ticket back home. Duh."
"But why?"
"You know I hate talking about feelings and all that crap. But I'm also not stupid. I'd like to think I know you fairly well and can tell there's something bothering you. So I thought perhaps a little visit back home, back to Lisa would help you out a bit."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah of course. We ain't booked next week. Which is a shame really. We finally pick up a win and then we can't get a billing for their pay-per-view event. But I get it. They are afraid we are going to build momentum and actually bring down their flawed system like we said we will."
"Wait, you actually checked a card in advance?"
"So what if I did?"
"I must be dreaming."
"Oi. Don't be a dick about it. So yeah. We ain't booked next week and I'm a big boy and can look after myself. You on the other hand clearly need some time off."
"Yeah thanks. It would be nice."
"Alright one quick bro-hug before I got back ad drink away all this mushy nonsense." The quick embrace was just that, barely lasting a second before Sam returned to his drinking and lapping up of inebriated attention. Dean watched his dear friend before shifting his gaze down to the plane ticket. It had an open-ended return date. Dean silently and inconspicuously toasted to his dear friend, it was moments of surprise like that, that reaffirmed their erstwhile friendship. He wasn't even worried of the potential for trouble by leaving Sam to his own devices. Instead he was thinking about home. With one final nod of shared understanding and appreciation between the two friends Dean took his leave.
It was as if someone had flipped a switch. For the most part the public reception of the lost Boys following their victory over Will Peterson and Dorian Hawkhurst had changed significantly. The jeers and jokes had halted, or at the very least lessened, and now they were being showered with praise and adulation. Though that could also be the considerable amount of alcohol that had gone around.
Dean Coulter knew how duplicitous and fickle the generic wrestling fan was, so put little stock in their current perception. Sam Braxton either didn't know, or didn't care. Either way he was taking full advantage of the situation, having received many free drinks and many phone numbers.
"Wow ease up there party animal." Sam staggered over to join Dean at his table. The glass in front of Dean was full, full with water. Though he wasn't opposed wholesale to the consumption of alcohol, he just wasn't really feeling it. Besides with the rate of Sam's consumption he had a feeling sober intervention would be needed at some point.
"What are you doing over here? You're disappointing you're crazed fan base. Did I see that red-head asking you to sign her chest?"
"This may be the home of the ignorant but my god they know how to show appreciation to their celebrities."
"Glad you're enjoying yourself."
"And why not? We finally managed that first step! We finally proved them wrong! Isn't it glorious?!" Dean's response was a half smile and slight tip of his water glass. "Ah shit sorry. I'm talking shop again when it's a time to celebrate. But here. Before I get too wasted and forget I was going to do something."
"Do what? You're not going to try and make out with me are you? I mean you got that red-head over there."
"Aaaaw dude, you're making it weird. Ruining the moment and everything. Just...here..."
From his pocket Sam produced an envelope and offered it to Dean. He eyed both the 'gift' and Sam warily before accepting the offer examining its contents. It was a place-ticket back to Sydney, Australia. It didn't happen often but Dean was a little surprised and taken a-back.
"What's this?"
"A plane ticket back home. Duh."
"But why?"
"You know I hate talking about feelings and all that crap. But I'm also not stupid. I'd like to think I know you fairly well and can tell there's something bothering you. So I thought perhaps a little visit back home, back to Lisa would help you out a bit."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah of course. We ain't booked next week. Which is a shame really. We finally pick up a win and then we can't get a billing for their pay-per-view event. But I get it. They are afraid we are going to build momentum and actually bring down their flawed system like we said we will."
"Wait, you actually checked a card in advance?"
"So what if I did?"
"I must be dreaming."
"Oi. Don't be a dick about it. So yeah. We ain't booked next week and I'm a big boy and can look after myself. You on the other hand clearly need some time off."
"Yeah thanks. It would be nice."
"Alright one quick bro-hug before I got back ad drink away all this mushy nonsense." The quick embrace was just that, barely lasting a second before Sam returned to his drinking and lapping up of inebriated attention. Dean watched his dear friend before shifting his gaze down to the plane ticket. It had an open-ended return date. Dean silently and inconspicuously toasted to his dear friend, it was moments of surprise like that, that reaffirmed their erstwhile friendship. He wasn't even worried of the potential for trouble by leaving Sam to his own devices. Instead he was thinking about home. With one final nod of shared understanding and appreciation between the two friends Dean took his leave.