OOC: Terribly sorry to my opponents this week. Just have a lot of stuff going on irl and my heads not in the right place rn. 

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“How in the world could you let this happen?”

Steve Sayors wasn’t wrong. But he had no idea just how often that question had left. It was the second time in as many weeks that she was in a hospital waiting room for somebody other than herself.

Hands folded and head lowered, she lifted my shoulders as if to shrug.

“Messenger did his job.” she reasoned.

“Yeah,” he spat back sardonically, “I guess he did.”

He was clearly worried. Aurora left Messenger out there too long with King and it nearly cost him a lot more than it should have. M isn’t a fighter. Kieran King very much is. Sayors knew this. If anyone at Kroger Field didn’t know, they damn sure saw it with their own two eyes.

King beat Messenger from pillar to ringpost. But as it turned out, despite the mugging, Messenger got off relatively lucky. But Steve and Aurora didn’t know that at the time. Steve was assuming the worst. Aurora seemed to be too deep in thought to be present.

It was just Sayors and her, and well, the 6 Star camera crew and the pedantic bustle of a Kentuckian ER waiting room which served as nothing more than a backdrop of random beeps, boops and ambient noises from the hurt and sick.

“Somebody had to.” Sayors growled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aurora asked.

Kieran made good on his promise. He left M with a cracked jaw along with numerous scrapes and contusions and two gigantic swollen black eyes. He was so badly beaten that the doctors working on him wouldn’t let them back in the room.

“You weren’t going to do it.”