Gabriel tilts his head back slightly and shoots a jet of water from the bottle in his right hand, into his mouth before making his way toward the kitchen. He stoops down, opening the fridge and buries his head inside, reappearing several seconds later with all the ingredients necessary to make a ham and cheese sandwich. As he begins to make his lunch, he squints curiously over at his brother still writing.
(Gabriel): What is it exactly that you're writing there?
Michael doesn't look up from the table when he responds.
(Michael): Just a complimentary card to Anton and Davis officially congratulating them on their championship victory at Road to Ruin.
Gabriel raises a single eyebrow whilst spreading a pallet of butter onto two slices of bread.
(Gabriel): And why are you doing that?
(Michael): Well I just think our message might have been misconstrued by our beloved new tag team champions. After all, the IQs of some the residents of the HWA roster leave a lot to be desired. They most probably think that our little message after their victory was some kind of threatening warning.
Gabriel raises an eyebrow as he speaks through a mouthful of honey roast ham.
(Gabriel): Except that that’s exactly what it was, Michael. You think we went out to shake their hands and act all nicey-nicey? No, what we said after their “victory” was a statement of intent, nothing more, and nothing less. They have the straps, we want the straps and we damn sure deserve those more than they do. Punks think they something about respect and honor, they don’t know anything.
Michael just smiles, shaking his head subtly in amusement at his older brother’s fiery nature.
(Michael): Your passion is something to be admired Gabriel. But we need to remain level-headed going into Havoc. I know there’s nothing more you’d love to do than rip apart the Sons of Anarchy limb from limb and shove said severed parts down both Anton’s and Davis’s throats but I cannot stress how composed we must remain. A Gauntlet Match is something we haven’t participated in, in a good few years so we have to be prepared. Anton and Davis will probably still blinded by the lights of euphoria after Road to Ruin to really concentrate on actually defending their championships which is what being a champion actually is despite what some people may think.
Gabriel finishes up his sandwich, still speaking through mouthfuls of bread, cheese and ham.
(Gabriel): And the SOA?
Michael scoffs through his nostrils at the mention of the Sons of Anarchy.
(Michael): The Sons of Anarchy…the Sons of Anarchy are too hell-bent on getting themselves involved in the little limelight love affair between the NWO and Hans and his European compatriots. Trust me brother, we keep our concentration, stick to our guns and we will be wearing those tag team championship belts before you know it.
Gabriel slams the fridge door shut vigorously after putting away the last of the ingredients he used to make his lunch.
(Gabriel): Goddamn shits…we’ve got Anton and Davis one side sucking each other off thinking that winning two matches on the trot makes them world-beaters with delusions of grandeur. Then the other we’ve got Sons of Anarchy thinking that they’re now some sort of power force with the world at their feet. And us, perfectly placed in the middle, ready to burst both their little bubbles.
(Michael): Just remember to channel all that rage when the time comes, Gabriel, one slip up and we’re back to square one.
(Gabriel): I know, I know, don’t worry; when have I ever let you down?
Michael inclines his head in acknowledgement towards his brother, tapping him lightly on the shoulder with his knuckles.
(Michael): You got me there. Right, I’m going to post this card to DNA, I’ll meet you at the back here in say what? An hour? And then we can head to the airport? Sound good?
(Gabriel): Sounds good.
Michael tucks the card into a ready-waiting envelope, sealing it shut and heads out of the front door of the suite as Gabriel heads back to his bedroom as the scene concludes and fades to black.
Message Thread
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