Chance Encounter [AA]

JFK, Sunday night, about an hour after KillShot aired. The airport, being that it's late on a Sunday night would normally be quiet, or at least as quiet as this airport ever gets, but being that it's the close of the busiest travel weekend of the American travel calender, it's packed. Lava Dahlberg is here. Her flight to Arizona to see her best friend & tag-team partner Flame Puppy is not until the morning, but she'd decided it would be easier to come to the airport right after the show then to try and get here in Monday morning traffic, so she wanders, looking in the gift shops and out the windows at the city.

Finally, she comes to the airport bar, which is likely the busiest part of the busy airport at this hour, even though many people are just struggling to get home. Lava normally doesn't drink, but being that she's about to embark on a two-day vacation of sorts, and since she had hours to kill, she figured why not.

Lava heads in and bellies-up to the bar, ordering a Heineken, and focuses on the sports highlights airing on the bar television. Several minutes pass before she hears a somewhat familiar voice behind her.

Oh my God! Swedish is here!

Lava turns around and spots a jovial Lora Shaw standing directly in front of her, full of spirit – metaphorically and literally. The blonde had been enjoying a few drinks ahead of her flight to LA later tonight.

Bring it in, Swedish!

The fighter throws her arms around Lava, hugging her in what feels like an incredibly uncharacteristic embrace. It's official. Lora Shaw is tipsy. Lava – sensing there's no threat of conflict here tonight – smiles, albeit with an awkwardness that can only be associated with two strangers.

What the heck are you doing here? Don't tell me you're tucking tail and flying home?!

Of course not. No, I'm headed to Phoenix to see my... to meet up with a friend.

Swedish has a girlfriend?

Lava doesn't look Lora straight in the eye when answering.

Not a girlfriend. Not exactly. Just a friend. And a tag-team partner.

Swedish has a girlfriend!

Dammit Lora, sit down, and cut it out with that. Flamey's not a girlfriend, not that I'd be totally opposed to it... but she's just a friend. Now order another drink already.

We drinking then? Alright Swedish, I'll drink with you!

And so the unlikely couple, two submission fighters from totally different world and with totally different mindsets sat in a busy airport bar and drank... Lora outpacing Lava two beers to one... and the minutes turned to hours.

You know something, Lava? You're alright. Like, people say you're just a robot with a lesbian haircut but you're so much more than that! I mean, I should know – I've had to brown nose that curly headed fuck Marty Sunshine since the second I arrived in New York. All I've seen are assholes. You're golden in my book.

It can't be easy working for that guy. I mean, I know you want to sing and everything, and I know he's promised you all sorts of opportunities, but you're still a real athlete, Lora. How can you take orders from someone who has such a back-assward take on our sport?

Oh yeah, he's a total jackass. Every time I walk into the room, his pants get a little tighter and shorter, the pervert that he is. I just go with it because he's my ticket to bigger and better things, baby. I figure if I keep laughing at his stupid jokes and compliment him on his looks, we'll be good. It does make me a little sick though. I mean, look at him! He looks like a potato with pubic hair glued on to the top of it – and that breath! Jesus! It smells like farts... I bet they're Priscilla's! Pfffthahahaha!

Huh. I've never been close enough to him to notice. It's reassuring to know that he is actually as much of a douchebag as he seems. Makes me feel better about siding with Goodman.

The two drink for another hour, actually evolving into honest-to-goodness girl talk about the rest of the roster. Suddenly, a very serious (and quite drunk) look passes across Lora Shaw's face, and her voice drops to a barely audible whisper...

I can't do it, Swedish. You're making me feel guilty so I have to tell you something. Just... Promise me... Promise me you won't say a word!

Sure Lora. I promise.

For realzies?

For realzies. What is it?

Okay... Okay. So Marty wants Warren and me to run down during your fight with Davina Copperfield this Sunday and help her get through to the finals. Like, he said that our submission game rivals yours, 'cept there's two of us, you know? So we're meant to head to the ring and fuck your shit up just enough for Morgan to do her thing and put you down. She doesn't know – nobody does. We said we'd do it but now? I... I can't, man. You're like... Well, it's you, Swedish! We're hoes now, right?

We hoes, Lora. Hoes 4 life.

Fuck, my flight! I.. I gotta jet, Swedish! It's been real though. Thanks for the beers! Next time we can have a girls night and I'll fix your hair! Okay byeeeee!

Lava watched as the intoxicated Lora Shaw ran off towards her gate. Turning to the bartender and ordering a coffee, black, Lava Dalhberg spoke her next thought aloud with a smile...

There is no way they're letting her on the plane in the state she's in.