002: #TouristTuesday

The late-afternoon sun was warm against her back as she pushed the sunglasses up her nose, casting a sidelong glance at him. Cool as a cucumber, Matt Stone looked as though he belonged here in this climate, barely even breaking a sweat while she was in danger of becoming a shiny, messy puddle on the ground.

"At least it's not humid," she remarked dryly.

He nodded, thinking that Mexico wasn't shaping up to be all that bad, especially now that he had some company. The silence wasn't ominous and they walked for a little while, close enough that her purse kept bumping against his hip.

Nessa couldn't stop thinking about running away from Australia when things had felt like they were in danger of drowning her. Her snarky emoji waves on social media had been a way to mock that, to let herself admit that she could feel the waters rising and now she'd jumped on a plane on a pretext to watch her former tag partner wrestle in a company she'd barely acknowledged before he'd darkened their door. She knew what it was and she suspected he did too, although he was kind enough not to throw it in her face. Even after everything that had come between them, all the burned bridges, it was still nice to be walking down a Main Street after the sun had mostly set with a cool breeze passing them as they walked and talked.

"So you have a place here now? Couldn't be more different than your mom's place back home; why did you decide to be Mexican?"

"Did I ever tell you that I was actually born in Mexico?" Rather than answer the question directly, she dodged and redirected it. He looked at her for a moment, eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"I did not, I always thought you were Canadian. I suppose I can scratch Mexican off my bucket list, now." He said in jest, chuckling nervously to himself.

"My parents were on holiday... there were complications. I decided to come early." She shrugged, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I am Canadian. It's a mere technicality." Nessa glanced over at him, "the place here, it's nice. Quiet and private. On the beach, actually. I still can't get over the sound of the wind in the palm trees... God, I feel like such a tourist."

"Look like one, too." He added, glancing over at her. "But to be fair, the majority of us gringos do. That's the right term, right? I mean, someone called me that last time, I'm just going on good faith it's not like a racial slur or anything."

"I think it might be. Depending on context, of course. Like when a black person calls you a cracker? Is that still a thing?" She managed a soft laugh, making the effort to shift her purse to her other shoulder so that she could move in close enough to slide her arm through his. "I'm actually looking forward to your match. It'll be a nice distraction."

"My match, my talk show, everything's coming up Milhouse, tomorrow night." He says with a smile, then as if he just heard what she said, looked over to her. "Distraction? From what, exactly? Last I heard you were trying to get some magical briefcase, how'd that go?"

"It's still going on," she sighed. "And this week, I'm in a cage with a woman who's never lost a match in the company."

"No time like the present to start for her, right?"

Her laugh was genuine, surprising them both and she looked over with relief on her face. "I knew you'd understand."

"Remember your secret weapon."

Nessa nodded. "Always. This briefcase, though? It's more than just some silly contract to cash in for a title shot. It's more than some silly Willy," she stumbled over the name, "Wonka ticket," she blushed, biting her lip as she looked down at her hot pink toenails peeking out from her sandals. "Well, I suppose I don't have to spell it out for you, do I?"

"That might actually be helpful." He admitted after taking a second to see if she had stepped on something to draw her attention, not finding anything remotely interesting where she was looking at.

"The person who wins the briefcase holds the power to book matches, to control elements of the show. And for me, that would give me more of an excuse to spend time with Chuck," she glanced over at him, "Chuck Matthews, the owner - I can spend time with him without being accused of attempting to sleep my way to the championship picture. In all honesty, climbing that particular ladder isn't in the forefront of my mind. I want to be in control, Matthew."

"I see." He said shortly, trying to remember if he even knew who she was talking about. "Didn't know you had your eyes on someone else already. I thought that you were back to spending time with that mentally challenged pilot friend of yours."

"Michel?" She giggled, shaking her head, "he's adorably, absolutely smitten with me still, but the truth is, I don't see any kind of future with him. We have fun together, sure. He's a good friend. A great asset on the road. I enjoy his company and his massages and he all but worships me, but he doesn't stimulate my mind." She wanted to tell him that Michel was wonderful in his own way, that their physical chemistry had always been great but that she needed something more. The last thing she wanted to do was start regaling her ex-boyfriend with stories of her sex life.

"Colour me shocked," Matt deadpanned. "He reminds me of someone who had their own mind stimulated with electroshock therapy and I'm actually a little concerned that he has a pilot's license, if I'm honest." He paused for a second, realizing that while bashing Michel was fun, and easy, and enjoyable, it wasn't what they were discussing. "But this Chuck guy sounds fantastic."

"He's something else," Nessa replied, a goofy smile on her face that she was unaware of. "It's funny. We went on a date a very long time ago, but we weren't in the place to pursue a relationship. I've always had so much respect for him. I think you'd like him. He's the smartest man I know."

"If he owns a wrestling company and didn't offer me a job, I very much doubt that." He flashed a cocky smirk, "on that note alone I don't think I'd like him, but perhaps I'm not his type."

"Low blow." Nessa turned towards him, playfully shoving his shoulder. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're jealous."

"Jealous?" He asked, shaking his head needing a physical demonstration of how wrong that accusation was. "I'm not jealous of boys you fancy, Nessa. Especially if they're actually good for you, unlike that last one you almost married. I'm happy for you." He proclaimed as they passed a merchant on the street selling flowers. Matt grabbed a single one and handed it to Nessa with a little flourish. "Besides, I can always swoop in and surprise you when you least expect it."

She couldn't help the smile on her face at the sight of the beautiful flower and against her better judgement, she lifted it to her nose, her allergies all but forgotten in this warmer climate. "You've always known how to keep me on my," she paused for a fraction of a second, her nose twitching, "toes." On the heels of the playful statement, she abruptly inhaled and then let out a thunderous sneeze, at least having the presence of mind to turn away from both Matt and the flower vendor. "AHHHHHHHCHOOOOOOO!!"

She stumbled back a half step, colliding with someone and as she muttered an apology, she felt her purse being yanked from her shoulder and the person took off running. Matt had taken a step back from Nessa during that abrupt inhale and was able to see the person she bumped into and as some sort of odd retribution, take off with her purse. Without so much as a word, which was odd for him in any situation, Matt took off after the guy, knocking the dozen or so other pedestrians out of the way as he followed the thief. Not having an intimate, or even preliminary knowledge of the area meant he was just playing a cat-and-mouse game where he had to chase after, not being able to take a short cut or anything but thankfully he was a step quicker and, feeling pressured, the guy took a sharp turn down an alley and Matt followed to see that he was trapped. The man reached into his pocket for something, what it was Matt didn't see as he was already lunging forward and tackling him to the ground, easily able to control the man's right arm in a hammerlock-like hold until the purse was released, and the guy screamed out in pain.

There was a clatter at the mouth of the alley and then Nessa skidded to a stop, just a little winded. She sniffled, shaking her head. "Well, I guess sneezing is more offensive in Mexico than I'd imagined."

Matt grabbed the purse off the ground and gave the man one final wrench of the arm before getting to his feet and handing the handbag back to Nessa. "That's for sure. Didn't quite go as I had planned…" it was obvious he was a little out of breath as well from the experience. "But admit it, if you hadn't sneezed that whole flower thing woulda been pretty romantic."

"Aww, sweetie," Nessa smirked and winked at him, "you've certainly outdone yourself in that department this evening." The man on the ground wasn't moving, still in obvious pain as she took Matt's arm and led him away from the scene of the crime. "The least I can do is find a halfway decent bar and buy you a celebratory drink. Or three."