We Need To Talk
The scene opens up on a familiar spot with a familiar visitor. Sitting on a stool at the Lobby Bar is Ria Nightshade. The seat is situated right up front, giving her easy access to call out for any desired drink. With ReVival going on, the bar is a bit less populated than normal. Thanks to this, Ria has both stools next to her available. She sips from a glass containing rum and coke, taking the occasional peek at one of the television screens showing the event.
???: Is this really the best place to be before your match?
The voice is a familiar one to Ria. Her expression is a mix of anger and annoyance. She shifts her eyes to the left before turning her head slightly. Sitting on the stool next to her is… Ria.
Her hair is brown with blonde highlights, much more well-kempt than her usual. There isn’t a trace to be found of Ria’s usual facial piercings. While her skirt and top combo could be called flirty, it’s far more restrained than her usual. Her ice blue eyes frame a face that has a look that could best be described as stoic sadness. This is Ria Lockhart.
Ria Nightshade: Screw off! I don’t recall asking your opinion, bitch!
Lockhart rolls her eyes and shrugs.
Ria Lockhart: Do you ever?
Lockhart gives a slight, but disappointed shake of her head before taking a short drink from the red solo cup in her right hand.
Ria Nightshade: Wait, where the hell did you get that drink from?!
Ria Lockhart: I’m a corporeal projection of our mind. I can have whatever drink I want. Hell, I can even have a cigarette if I want.
Milliseconds after the words leave Lockhart’s mouth, a lit cigarette appears between the index and middle fingers on her left hand.
Ria Lockhart: See?
The earlier disapproving look hasn’t left Nightshade’s face. She gives her other half a dismissive wave.
Ria Nightshade: Seriously, go hide away and cry. That’s about all you’re good for. I have a match to worry about.
Lockhart lets a forlorn sigh escape her lungs.
Ria Lockhart: You know, I’m trying to help you.
Nightshade shoots a hate filled glare Lockhart’s way.
Ria Nightshade: Who the hell asked you?!
Lockhart gives a relaxed, but confident shrug.
Ria Lockhart: Say whatever you want. You might hate hearing it, but you actually have friends here.
Nightshade unsuccessfully tries to stifle back a chuckle.
Nightshade: Oh really? Such as?
Ria Lockhart: The Anglo Luchador.
A smile does cross Nightshade’s face, but it’s combined with a dismissive eye roll.
Ria Nightshade: You must’ve been drunk earlier, cuz I made my feelings VERY clear on that lucha dumbass! If we meet in the ring, maybe I’ll send him a discounted fruit basket for surviving.
Ria Lockhart: Sure… What about Timo?
Nightshade gives Lockhart a look as if that was a stupid question to ask
Ria Nightshade: He’s a jacked ref who wears face paint. While kinda cool, he’s still a referee. Therefore, he also sucks.
Lockhart takes another sip from her cup. The brief drink gives her a moment to present her next thought.
Ria Lockhart: Baron Von Blackberry?
Ria Nightshade: I’m pretty sure that guy’s not an actual Baron.
Lockhart shoots Nightshade an expression even more deadpan than her usual.
Ria Lockhart: That’s his first… Whatever. King Blueberry?
Ria Nightshade: Funny guy. Blithering idiot, but funny.
There’s a moment of silence after this. If this were a game of poker, Lockhart’s poker face would have to be called excellent. She was about to drop pocket aces.
Ria Lockhart: Okay… Calico Rose?
Nightshade’s eyes grow wide for a second before returning to normal. After a few attempts that produce mouth movement, but no words, Nightshade closes her mouth and sulks.
Ria Lockhart: Well?
Ria Nightshade: Shut up.
Ria Lockhart: That’s what I thought. Face it, people actually like you, and you like interacting with them.
A sneer crosses Nightshade’s face.
Ria Nightshade: No, I like the attention. I don’t give a shit about a single one of them!
Lockhart sighs in exasperation with a hard roll of her eyes before glaring at Nightshade.
Ria Lockhart: So you were totally cool with what Balaam did to Anglo?
The mention of Balaam’s name and the pain he brought upon The Anglo Luchador sends Nightshade’s face contorting in anger. Once she realizes this, Nightshade grunts in frustration before allowing her facial muscles to calm.
Ria Lockhart: You know what? I can’t force you to accept anything. I might’ve actually made things worse popping out for a few. I just think you have some serious thinking to do.
At this point, Nightshade is no longer looking at Lockhart. Instead, she stares down into the drink she’s now holding in both hands. It wouldn’t matter if she was observing her other half at this point regardless. Just as suddenly as she had appeared, Ria Lockhart was gone. After a few moments of reflection, Ria Nightshade’s eyes pan up. She notices a very confused and slightly terrified bartender staring at her.
Ria Nightshade: The fuck you looking at?! You never see someone argue with themselves before?!
We cut to our befuddled announce team at the commentary table.
Nick Stuart: I’m not terribly sure what we just watched.
Richard Parker: Best to just treat it as a fever dream, Nick. Nothing happened, there is no man behind the curtain!
Nick Stuart: Right. Anyway, we’ve got a big match between Pete Whealdon and Solomon Richards coming up next!