The first aider is wiping the excess blood from Butch’s forehead and temple areas with an antiseptic wipe causing Butch to involuntarily wince as the chemical substance gets to work in cleaning the wounds of infection.
(First Aider): Sorry Mr Parker, it has to be done. We don’t want these gashes getting infected.
Butch smiles despite himself.
(Butch): I’ve suffered a lot worse, believe me.
(First Aider): I know, I’ve been a fan of you for years, actually.
(Butch): Thanks.
(First Aider): I loved your old EFWA and early-HWA stuff the best. You were hungry back then, your drive and desire were incredible.
Butch arches a single eyebrow, eying the first aider, caught off-guard by his comments. Immediately sensing he may have worded his statement wrong, the man is quick to backtrack.
(First Aider): I only meant that in the context that I can understand why you would just want to retire now. Back then you youth on your side and you were starting your legacy. Sorry, I meant no disrespect.
(Butch): Don’t worry yourself. How’s the cut looking anyway?
(First Aider): Not too bad. There’s bruising surrounding it which I can give you painkillers for and to bring the swelling down. I’m just going to put some paper stitches in aswell. Should only take a couple of minutes.
(Butch): If you could be as quick as you can, I’d really appreciate it. I’ve got some urgent matters to attend to.
(First Aider): Absolutely, Mr Parker!
The first aider gets to work in closing the cut on Butch’s head, hands him the small plastic container filled with painkillers he promised earlier and a few minutes later, Butch has hopped off the table and is making his way down one of the hallways of the Hua Mark stadium. Eventually, Butch stops outside the door he’s apparently looking for and the name plate emblazoned across it reads “Mrs Shevington” in bold, fancy letters. Butch knocks several times until he hears a faint female voice saying “come in.” Butch opens the door and finds Mrs Shevington packing up her stuff and getting ready to leave.
(Mrs Shevington): Mr Parker. I was just getting ready to leave for my hotel. How is your head?
(Butch): Fine, thanks.
(Mrs Shevington): I’m glad to hear it. What can I do for you? I’m in a bit of a rush, I’m afraid.
(Butch): I want to know what you plan to do about Senester paying off this masked character to interrupt people’s matches. I don’t want to be here, Mrs Shevington, I’m sure you can appreciate my circumstances but I’m here and I have to make the most of it but I don’t appreciate being jumped by a little shit….
Mrs Shevington’s expression changes to one of an uncomfortable nature which Butch can only assume is to do with his choice of words and he immediately addresses it before continuing.
(Butch): ….Sorry, I don’t appreciate being jumped by some guy in a mask and a weapon when I’m trying to get on with my job. I admire what you did earlier, standing up to him and restarting his match with Romano. So surely, something can be done without me finding him myself and addressing the matter directly with him which is what will happen if you don’t do anything.
(Mrs Shevington): Mr Parker, whilst I sympathise with what happened this evening, there’s very little I can do at the moment. The gentleman concerned is in the process of having a HWA contract validated but I have no personal dealings with him. Of course I will be working on heightening security during matches but I would caution you on going to Senester directly with this. Nothing will be solved and it will only exacerbate matters even more.
Butch smiles wryly, as if he anticipated the answers he just received.
(Butch): Forget it. I’ll sort this out in my own way.
Before Mrs Shevington can reply Butch about-turns and leaves her office, muttering angrily to himself.
(Butch): F*** sake….
The scene concludes with Butch stomping back down the hall still swearing to himself and the camera fading out to black.
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