Weary from the emotional rollercoaster of visiting her mother, Alex, in the hospital, she nestled against her father, seeking solace and reassurance in his presence. Her innocent face, etched with traces of worry and fatigue, held a vulnerability that tugged at her Dad’s heart.
As they lay side by side, Stu-E gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Laney's forehead, his touch a soothing balm against the turmoil of their circumstances. He understood the weight that rested on her small shoulders, the confusion and fear that swirled within her young mind.
"Darling, I know today was tough," Stu-E whispered, his voice carrying a mix of tenderness and strength. "But the doctors are doing everything they can to figure out what's wrong with your Mam, hopefully she'll be able to come go home next week."
Laney's tired eyes met Stu-E's, her gaze shimmering with unshed tears. The uncertainty that hung over their lives had taken its toll, leaving her emotionally drained and vulnerable. She clung to her father, seeking the reassurance that only a parent's love could provide. Her Dad enveloped her in his embrace, creating a cocoon of love and protection. He held her tightly, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of emotions.
"She’ll get through this, Laney. Don’t worry about that, she’ll be healthy and strong in now time." Stu-E vowed, his words infused with a quiet determination that resonated through the room.
Laney's fragile form quivered with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. She found solace in her father's unwavering love and the promise of brighter days ahead. In that moment, Stu-E's presence became her sanctuary, a beacon of strength and stability amidst the uncertainty that surrounded them.
As the room grew still, the gentle rhythm of their breathing filled the space, an unspoken language of comfort and unity. In the quiet darkness, father and daughter clung to each other, finding solace in their shared vulnerability and the hope that anchored their hearts.
Laney drifted off to sleep. The house was now cloaked in a hushed stillness as Stu-E gently slipped away from his daughter's bedroom. Laney, finally succumbing to the exhaustion that weighed upon her young spirit, drifted into a peaceful slumber. In the dimly lit hallway, Stu-E walked with measured steps, mindful not to disturb the tranquillity that had settled upon Alex’s home.
As he descended the stairs, the creaking of each wooden step beneath his weight echoed through the quiet house. Shadows danced across the walls, casting fleeting silhouettes that whispered secrets of the night.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Stu-E found himself in the familiar embrace of the kitchen. Soft light spilled from the open fridge, casting a gentle glow upon the worn lino flooring. The cool air embraced him, offering respite from the heaviness that clung to his heart seeing his daughter so upset.
With a sigh, Stu-E's weary gaze settled upon the array of bottles nestled amidst the groceries. He reached inside, his fingers grazing the chilled glass until they found solace in the firm grip of a cold beer. The metallic pop of the bottle cap breaking free punctuated the silence, as if granting him permission to momentarily escape the weight of his worries.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, Stu-E raised the bottle to his lips, the smooth liquid offering a momentary reprieve from the turbulence of his thoughts. The taste, familiar and comforting, brought a fleeting sense of calm that washed over him.
In the stillness of the house, the rhythmic sound of his breathing mingled with the gentle hum of the refrigerator. Stu-E's mind wandered, grappling with the complexities of his world. The uncertainty surrounding Alex's condition, the weight of responsibility he bore as a father, and the need to remain strong in the face of adversity. It all weighed heavily upon him, threatening to erode the resolve that held him together. Not to mention having to get back to America for Havoc.
With each sip, Stu-E found a fleeting escape from the burden that rested upon his shoulders. The beer, a temporary salvation for his weary soul, allowed him to momentarily set aside the weight of his worries. In this stolen moment, he found solace in the quiet solitude of the kitchen, a brief respite from the tumultuous sea of emotions that raged outside its walls.
Maybe he should leave Laney here in England to be with her family and wait for her mother so he can really go to town on Havoc, give Fallen what he wants and go back to the hardcore. He opens his free hand and investigates it, the cuts that never did heal pull your attention in next to the big scar from the time he put his hand through a television screen. After seeing these, he thinks again and takes another big drink.
As the last drops of beer vanished, Stu-E lowered the bottle, the weight of his reality returning with a sobering clarity. With a deep breath, he closed the fridge door and walked back through the quiet hallway, leaving behind the kitchen and the fleeting moments of respite it offered.
Leaving the tranquillity of the kitchen behind, Price made his way to the welcoming embrace of the living room. The room, situated at the front of the house and was far enough away from Laney’s bedroom was warm and inviting.
His gaze wandered across its features, soft lamplight spilled from the corner, casting a warm glow upon the rich, dark mahogany coffee table that served as the centrepiece of the room. Its smooth surface gleamed, reflecting the flickering dance of the flameless candles placed strategically across its expanse.
The table stood atop an intricately patterned Persian rug, its vibrant hues interwoven with stories of distant lands and ancient traditions. The rug sprawled across the polished hardwood floor, its plush fibres inviting weary feet to sink into its comforting embrace.
Arranging his mobile phone on the coffee table, Stu-E meticulously positioned it to capture the best angle for recording his promo. The soft light from the screen cast a faint illumination upon his face, accentuating the determination etched upon his features. With practiced ease, he settled himself into the plush embrace of an oversized armchair, its worn fabric bearing witness to countless hours spent deep in thought and preparation.
In this sacred space, he could let his thoughts unfurl, free from the constraints of the outside world. The hushed stillness of the room provided a backdrop against which his words would find their voice, carried forth with a passion that burned deep within him. With a steadying breath, Stu-E allowed the weight of his responsibilities to settle upon his shoulders. He prepared himself mentally, the presence of the room wrapping around him like a comforting cloak.
In the quiet of the living room, he embarked on the task at hand, recording his promo for Havoc, the commitment to his craft driving him forward.
He had listened intently to Fallen's verbose monologue, his expression a mixture of amusement and irritation. As his phone camera focuses on him, he leans forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Well, well, Fallen," Stu-E begins, his voice dripping with a playful sarcasm. "You sure do like to talk, don't ya? But just maybe… I may have been a little jetlagged when I recorded my promo. I mean, it started off well enough but then I had to go and bring your old Dad in to it. I’ll apologise for that because, as you’ll find out on Havoc, I’m just the better man.”
He leans back, crossing his arms, and continues, "But, let’s set the record straight, shall we? I saw that look in your eyes as you turned around with that little smile of yours. Fallen, you have just shown the whole World how easy it is to mess with you. When you’ve been in the business for as long as I have, you learn to ignore the words coming out of an idiot like you and just watch. I’m going to have some real fun in that ring with you, and I can’t wait."
Stu-E's smirk widens as he unleashes his verbal assault. "I’ve seen people like you my whole life, and not just in the wrestling business, but in every aspect of life. You remind me of a band I used to book to play in one of my landmark venues up in Glencoe, Scotland."
He chuckles softly, his voice laced with confidence. "They were terrible, and no matter what they did they couldn’t get better, no amount of hours rehearsing could fix that noise. So I told them that I would sing better than them if I had throat cancer and four cocks in my mouth! They had that same dumb look as you on their face when I said it too!”
Price’s smile grows further at the memory of that conversation. “Guess what happened next time they played? They blew the roof off the place, just to show me that they could play, and they could sing. Because of that night, those few words, they’re a half decent band now.”
He uncrosses his arms, holds his hands out and shrugs his shoulders.
“I am the modern-day renaissance man of professional wrestling, and I wanted you feeling exactly like you did shooting that promo so when it comes round to Havoc you’re going to step through those ropes and give the crowd the match of your life. Hopefully it’s going to be a classic, hopefully it’s going to be something you can show to your students up and down the country because I’m sure they’re tired of watching William Regal at the Pillman Memorial Show by now!
And when it’s all said and done and you go back to wherever cheap motel, you’re staying at you’ll be able to lay back in that dodgy bed with the springs poking into your lower back, just like the garbage band did back in the day, and say to yourself, ‘holy shit, the Price was right!’”
He rises from his seat, smirks once more, his voice filled with swagger. "Bring it on, Fallen." With that, Stu-E confidently walks away from the camera, leaving a trail of anticipation and bravado in his wake as the scene fades out.
Message Thread
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