It's A Wash (Ch. 29 Promo 1 Cynthia Rose)

(The camera opens on the familiar sight of the interior of Percy's penthouse suite. Cynthia Rose sits upright in Percy's bed with her back against the headboard, her left eye patched and her right still bloodshot from being maced for the second time by Kimberly Chase at Cero Miedo. She watches silently as Sam busies herself at bedside placing vending machine snacks and water pitchers on the night stand in a hurried fashion, as if feeling judged or shamed in her actions as she goes about them at the speed and grace of ripping off a band aid.)

Cynthia Rose: You-you don't have to...

Sam: No, no, it's fine. I'll just put this stuff here and leave you in peace.

Cynthia Rose: Oh I wish you wouldn't. I would love to have someone to talk to, and for some reason Percy wont come up to see me. I think he's mad about me losing, or maybe about having to slum it in my room again...or both. He hasn't talked to me since Cero Miedo. I don't know if he's busy trying to get a rematch or if-if he's just writing me off as a liability.

Sam: Well...you are aren't you?

(Sam rolls her eyes at Cynthia biting her bottom lip to stop it from quivering.)

Sam: Look, I'm not good at this pep talk stuff! I don't exactly have what you'd call bedside manner at my best, but I'm probably a little too involved with this situation to give my personal biased feedback on the matter. If I were Percy I'd cut you loose, tender my resignation with Wrestleworld, and then whisk a cute masseuse off of her feet and take her off of this godforsaken island.

(Cynthia swallows hard as she tries to fight back the tears. Sam, flustered as to what to do with the on the verge of crying cyclops before her, throws up her hands and plops down in a nearby chair.)

Sam: ...but I'm not Percy. I give up on people at the first sign of trouble. I fail to see the potential in others, or trust emotionally unstable, towheaded, troubled youths. I'm not willing to put it all on the line and bet on someone at the cost of my own personal life.

Cynthia Rose: h-h-he's a good man.

Sam: Yeah, and neither of us deserve him.

Cynthia Rose: and yet...

(Cynthia's words trial off, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the room. Sam nods, exhaling with acknowledging frustration of her situation as she rises out of her chair and heads for the door.)

Sam: I'll talk to him.

Cynthia Rose: You don't-

Sam: Please. It's the least I can do. Just...stay in bed. You have like zero depth perception right now...can't have you walking off of the roof on my watch. Percy would never let me hear the end of it.

(Cynthia lets out a tense giggle that catches Sam off guard. She snaps around and stares at the pathetic human taking up space in her lover's bed, blushing and looking down at her hands, doing anything to distract herself from the inevitability of crying. Sam gives her a placid stare of judgment before stoically turning back to the door and heading out without a word.)

Cynthia Rose: She's right, you know?

(The camera swings back to Cynthia in bed, still looking down at her lap as she nervously wipes the wrinkles out of her clothes.)

Cynthia Rose: Percy should cut line and run. I've been nothing but a letdown from the start. Every step forward has been brought to a screeching halt. Every opportunity; squandered. It doesn't make sense, it just doesn't...How can I beat a legend like Nasir Moore, give Colt Montoya the fight of his career, and empty a ring filled with career veterans that I'm not even remotely comfortable with calling my peers...and yet the bane of my existence is a one-hundred and ten pound manager who decided to finally lace up a pair and fight her own battles. Don't get me wrong, I'm 110 lb rookie too but...I-I thought I was better than her. I thought I knew something that she didn't. I thought that I could out-wrestle her and overcome her primal, do anything to survive, instincts. Percy's right; I should be laying out the likes of Kimberly Chase instead of trying to prove something to myself. I got cocky. It's as simple as that.

(Cynthia blinks the glassy tear film from her one good eye and rolls it in agitation with herself.)

Cynthia Rose: Now look at me. I'm back to pouring milk in on eye while waiting for the cornea in the other to heal enough to get into the ring with the likes of Stephanie "Cloud" Matsuda. Forgive me for being reticent to praise you too highly Cloud, but the last two heroes I've openly worshiped ended up beating me down in the ring after I claimed victory over the both of them. I'm sure you're hesitant to shake hands and be friends too after the year you've had so far. Why is it that people are so stubborn? why can't they move on and let bygones be bygones? You of all people should know the answer to that question better than I. You've dealt with April song for like, what?, half a decade now at least? I'm sure that former Baby Yoda turned annoying little soulless shrieking Porg Hana Nakajima has been a metaphorical and literal pain in your neck also. Is it us? One has to wonder if we're the sado-masochists asking for more punishment every single time we extend another olive branch after the last one-hundred were used to wrap us across the knuckles in reprimand for even trying to make peace. It's starting to cost me my southern charm. Who knows? at this rate maybe I will deck Kimberly the next time I see her...

(Cynthia rubs her arm self-consciously as she averts her one good eye from making direct contact with the camera. Her face grows soft with a somber smile as she looks out over the beautiful island weather through a nearby window.)

Cynthia Rose: Yeah, probably not. Can't let her think she's gotten the best of me, now can I? Maybe that's the plus of losing the dip in my curtsy; I've grown too stubborn to give in. Besides, there's still a little masochistic part of me that wants to tank the punishment and wrestle her to the mat clean, just to show her that I can. I'm sure a big part of you can relate to that, Stephanie.

(Cynthia tilts her head and cuts her one good eye at the camera cutely.)

Cynthia Rose: Maybe I'm going about this all wrong. Maybe I should be licking your boots and praising your accomplishments just so that you and I can have something I'm sure we'd both greatly appreciate in a sporting exhibition. After all, iron sharpens iron and if Kimberly Chase has taught me anything other than pick who I trust wisely, it's that my iron isn't sharp enough. I wouldn't mind rubbing it against the mettle of a former and inaugural American Dream Champion. Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking you to hold back. I know you like to kick and punch as much as the next opponent. Boy howdy! it could be argued that your strikes are some of the more dangerous ones on the island, but just because you have a certain style and skill set doesn't mean you have to go out there with the intent of stretching the new green bean on the scene. Then again, if you didn't, then exactly what would I be asking you for? For you to go easy on me? No, I don't want that. My pity meter's already been maxed out for the month. I think a big part of me would prefer if Percy were mad at me instead of worried at this point...but what am I asking you for, Cloud? Well, I suppose I'm asking for your best in a clean fight. I know it'll be a fight too, and I welcome it so long as it doesn't end with you stomping my head into the canvas after the bell, or taking out my one good eye.

(Cynthia lets her chest rise with a heavy beleaguered sigh.)

Cynthia Rose: Aren't you tired of having to fight for your life every time you step through those ropes? I've arguably only been doing it for a month now. I can't imagine what you've gone through over the past decade in this sport. I respect you, "Cloud". You might be the last woman in Wrestleworld worthy of respect or role model status for a burgeoning talent like me. I'm not asking for the night off here....but I sort of am. Let's leave our drama behind in the locker room. Let's forget about Sweet Melody, Claudia Michaels, and every other villain that's tangled up so deep in our hair that we didn't notice that it's latched us to one another in a common bond against common enemies and just go out there and have a wrestling match with no strings or follicles attached. I neither need nor want you as an enemy. I think we've got enough holes punched in our dance cards without going out of our way to punch one another's. All that matters for Chapter 29, the only thing worth fighting for that you can hold against me logically in any way, shape, or fashion, is a victory. You need one, and lord knows I need one girl. Let's go into this one with nothing between us other than that like-minded will and accord to be the best version of us that we can be. I know that's all I need to motivate me. A pinfall victory over Stephanie Matsuda? are you kidding me? that'd be great. The only question in the air is whether it's enough for you anymore. Let's stay in tonight, Stephanie. Hold the phone on all of your enemies that have come courting, put that ringer on vibrate, and stay in and wash your hair. Just this once, just for one night, let's both come clean and meet up with nothing but a respect between us, along with a driving motivation to have the best match possible for the fans out there watching and a desire to win. I don't need any more female heroes in this business proving the old dated wrestling commentary adage from the 90's that 'all women secretly hate each other'. We don't, or at least we don't have to.

(Cynthia blushes and laughs at her self.)

Cynthia Rose: I've spent the past two months fighting over shoes and cup sizes. I'd kill for a little dignity, ya know? Let's move the cause forward instead of letting it continue to retrograde into hair pulling and b-word calling. I didn't sign up to Wrestleworld to be on a trashy daytime talk show. I signed up to wrestle and become someone that my podunk hometown could be proud of. I owe them that, and by 'them' I mean every little boy and girl who dreams of getting out in the world and coming back home a somebody. I need this match, Cloud. I think you do too, so let's go out there and give them a show. Whaddaya say?

(Cynthia blinks and gives the camera a weak smile.)

Cynthia Rose: That...that was supposed to be a wink. Did that come across as me winking?

(The camera collapses as the man operating it breaks out into a wheezing laughter. A fleeting shot of Cynthia smiling at the prospect of making someone else laugh as her face turns read streaks across the lens, before the camera cuts to the elevator doors in Eden's lobby just as they open. Sam steps out, nearly getting bowled over by a pacing Percy in the process.)

Sam: Jesus, calm down man.

Percy: Is she okay?

Sam: If you care so much, why don't you go up and see for yourself?

Percy: Nah, nah I can't. I-I just can't. I let her down, Sam. I got her in this situation and now she's had a metal file taken to one of her eyes and lost her cup and-

Sam: Percy! Breathe.

Percy: I'm sorry, I just can't face her yet. I shoulda never taken this match or let that little bitch Kimberly get to me so badly, I-

(Sam steps in Percy's path, grabs him by the head, and buries her tongue into his mouth. Percy stands wide eyed in shock as Sam's tongue explores the inside of his mouth. Finally, she pulls away for air, looks around awkwardly, and starts heading for the exit.)

Percy: Wai-wai-wait. I need you.

Sam: No you don't. You have her, and she needs you right now.

Percy: Sam, I-I.

Sam: I can't do anything for her. She wants you.

Percy: Just keep her from getting out of bed and be company. S'all you have to do.

Sam: And you can do that yourself. I'm sure she'd much prefer it.

Percy: Sam...

(Sam stops and lets her chin drop to her chest in frustration. Without bothering to turn to the pleading Percy she grumbles over her shoulder.)

Sam: What...?

Percy: I'll pay you.

Sam:...

Percy: For the night, just ple-

Sam: Let me get this straight: You want to pay me to babysit the twenty-something year old blonde girl holed up in your penthouse?

Percy: Aw c'mon, don't do that Sam.

Sam: Do what?

Percy: Don't make it sound gross.

(Sam turns on her heel to face Percy, so quickly that he nearly two-steps backwards at how abruptly her glare meets his gaze.)

Sam: It is gross, Percy. It's really gross. I know you don't have any like...sexual...feelings for her-

Percy: I'd prefer if you said 'romantic', but no: I do not have those sort of feelings for her.

Sam:-but I don't want to play house with you. This was supposed to be something fun without any strings attached.

Percy: Then why you gettin' all territorial about Cynthia when you know it ain't like that with her and I? You clearly don't want it to be anything but a booty call between you and me?

(Sam's head drops in disappointment. She slides her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, before turning with her shoulders hunched up in frustration and begins heading back for the lobby exit.)

Sam: Goodbye Percy...

Percy: Either you want me as a piece of meat or you want to get close. You can't have it both ways, Sam! You don't get to be a part of my life if I can't be in yours!

Sam: Go talk to your child prodigy. Wittle baby misses her papa Percy.

Percy: FUCK YOU! I can't look her in the eye, man!

Sam: Then stand on the left side of the room...

(Percy raises his fist, as if ready to say something, but stands idly, shaking with anger as Sam exits through the sliding doors of the lobby and disappears onto the street. A cough coming from the front desk snaps Percy back into reality as he looks over to see a bellhop awkwardly rocking in place.)

Percy: Yeah what?

Bellhop: Can I uh...help you sir?

Percy: Nah fuck off...wait...I'll spot you a twenty if you go upstairs and make sure the girl in the penthouse hasn't walked off of the roof.

Bellhop: I beg your pardon sir?

Percy: Never mind...guess I'll do it myself.

(Percy turns, slamming his fist into the elevator button. The camera cuts to black just as the metal doors part.)