"What can I do for you today, Eddie?" 

Octavia sat at the table wearing a white cocktail dress with purple flowers, probably a little too dressed up for Eddie's taste. He wore big pants and a big shirt with big boots, as per usual. But he didn't smile. He sat down with a heavy sigh and vaguely gestured as he spoke.

"You showed me I can trust you. You showed me this is a safe space where I can, dare I say it? Bare my soul." He chuckled. "And you been teaching me harsh lessons about asking for what I want."

"Harsh?" She raised one eyebrow at him. "You're a grown man, you can communicate like one."

"I can't." His voice was flat as he shook his head at her. "Imma need you to figure it out for me."

She narrowed her eyes as she tried to observe every detail of his body language. "This is going to be emotional then?"

"I mean…" He shrugged. "Have you seen me?" He was trying to make her laugh, of course it would be emotional. He had that look about him, something she had seen in Blake before. He wasn't here to have fun.

"Tearing you down again?" She mentally went over the options, trying to narrow down what he might need and what she could facilitate. 

He seemed to be thinking it over before he replied: "Not this time." His voice was unusually quiet. After a few seconds of looking at his hands, he continued: "Maybe I just need to vent. Let off steam. I dunno. I just need you to know that Eddie Kingston is me, but it's not me. Do you know what I'm sayin'?"

She nodded emphatically and reached out to touch his hand across the table. "This is going to be roleplay, but it's real. I've got you."

"You sure?" He looked at her with his big eyes. "This story… I don't know how it ends. Once I get goin' I don't know where it's goin'."

She patted his hand reassuringly. "You're not the first to ask me for something like this. And I know you a little bit."

He chuckled but it was short, and the grin was a mask. "Yeah, you do. And you're crafty enough to use it all against me. And you should. I don't know if I can do time-outs this time." 

Octavia rose from her seat. "I can fix that. What do you need before we start?"

He took his shirt off, revealing a cheap tank top underneath and grumbled. "I need to get worked up. Wish I had a punching bag…" 

She could feel herself tense up as she processed what kind of scene they were moving towards. Was she ready to do this with him? Did she know him well enough to improvise it all?

Eddie paced the room with heavy footsteps, trying to conjure up the mindset he needed.

"Well, I'd like to do some preparation." She stood in front of him in the middle of the room.

He shook his head without looking at her. "I'm not in the mood for that 'relax and close your eyes' shit."

She took a deep breath, her mind racing to find a creative solution. Then, she asked: "Tell me, Eddie. Were you ever in Ring of Honor?" She extended her hand.

The way she locked eyes with him made him pause, he stared at her and his mouth fell open. Silent and tense, he approached to shake her hand, but she unexpectedly grabbed his wrist and tugged him forward.

"Drop." She commanded with a piercing look.

His eyes closed involuntarily as he stumbled to the floor, and she stayed close to him, facilitating a softer landing as she whispered in his ear.

"You don't need to relax. You just need to drop. You just need to fall. You know how to fall. You've done this before. You can just keep falling deeper for me." She was relieved to hear him sigh as he collapsed into a limp and heavy heap. Softly stroking his cheek, she continued in her dreamy hypnotist tone: "You see, you don't need to be in the mood to follow my commands. It happens naturally, it's a reflex. And just as naturally, when I tell you to stop, your body will just freeze in place for a moment. Whenever I say stop, your body just stops for a second. Automatically. Thank you for doing that for me, Eddie."

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, at a safe distance from him. Nerves made her heart flutter in her chest, as she started to speak more loudly. "You mentioned a punching bag, just a minute ago. I want you to imagine what you'd be doing with the punching bag if you had one here. I want you to imagine how that would make you feel. You see, it's easy to find that headspace you were looking for. Those feelings that inspired you to come to me, it's like this pressure building up inside you. It can just continue to build as you start to notice the way you're lying on the floor. As you start to wake up, you'll find yourself in the right headspace."

He rolled over onto his hands and knees. After taking a deep breath, his eyes opened and they were clear and angry. "Fuck you and your crafty shit!" He effortlessly strung a litany of expletives together to express his annoyance as he rose to his feet. Drawing himself up to his full height, he towered over Octavia still sitting on the edge of the bed. "You fucked with my head again!"

She crossed her arms and calmly replied: "I know that's not the real reason you're angry, my dear."

"Oh, you know, do you?" It was intimidating how quickly he moved from getting in her face to laughing derisively to an imaginary audience, taking up so much space with his indignation. "You know everything. You don't need me to tell you nothing."

Octavia remained silent, observing him, body language, words and implied communication, trying to figure out what got him so worked up.

"You know what?" He backed up to the middle of the room and crossed his arms, big and defensive. "I'm not even mad. I could care less what you think of me. Fuck you and your judgemental attitude."

"My judgemental attitude?" She tilted her head as she observed him. Perhaps she could just let him vent, perhaps she should.

"Yeah, I know what you think of me." As he ranted, his gestures were just as loud as his voice. "That I'm fat and lazy. Ugly. You always look so fucking pretty, you prolly think I'm ugly too. And my bad attitude, you don't like how crass I am compared to you. You're so fucking sophisticated with your flowery language and your I dunno. You prolly went to college or something. And here I am with my GED." With his hands on his hips, he glared at her, waiting for some kind of response.

She shook her head and showed him one hand, palm open. She kept her voice and the expression on her face carefully even. "No, please. Do go on. Tell me what I think of you." She didn't think he'd fall for her thinly veiled attempt to spur him on, but he seemed to be on a roll now.

"I know some people might say you sell your body, but so do I. I'm sure you see that." He stared off into the distance as he became more introspective. His voice grew more hoarse and raw as he continued. "I go out there and wrestle, sometimes for eight people in a bingo hall. I'm broke because gigs like that don't even pay for the gas I spent gettin there. I pursued my dream and here I am, broke and I never amounted to anything. I'm forty years old and I've broken my body for this sport that I love and I got nothing to show for it."

Not knowing what to say, she stared at him. Should she show him that she felt for him, that she understood his struggles, that she admired him?

He paused, closing his eyes and turning away. In this moment of silence, he seemed to realise that Octavia had said none of these things. There was this tension in his shoulders, something bigger and more painful than the pent up emotion in his rant. "I'm a fucking loser." He wiped his mouth as if the words left a bad taste.

"Eddie…" She got up and approached him, reaching out to touch him.

He moved away, to the table to grab his shirt and his hat. "I got no business bein' here…" He was going for the door.

Octavia had to stop him somehow. "Stop."

He jolted as if he felt a hit on the back of his head. He stood there, frozen in place four feet away from the door.

"If you leave now, you're a coward too." She didn't want to bring out her stern voice, so her words sounded flat.

He slowly turned around and glared at her. When he threw his shirt into her face, the hat fell on the floor. "Are you gonna tell me I'm wrong?"

Her eyes met his gaze fearlessly. She remained still like a statue as the shirt slid off her shoulder and fell to the floor at her feet.

"You think you know me better than I know myself?" With two angry steps he was suddenly in her face, she could feel his hot breath against her skin. "You think you can make this shit go away with your pity?"

She didn't blink even though tears burned in her eyes, there was only a tiny shake of her head as she looked up to him. "There is nothing I can say to make this better." The lump in her throat made her voice waver.

He had no retort to that, but the rage still made him quiver. She reached up to touch his face, but he grabbed her wrist, glaring at her. She blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. It made him pause, his gaze softening and his grip loosening. Her hand cupped his jaw and she stepped in closer, their lips only an inch apart.

"This is not pity." She said in a breathless whisper. "This is a clumsy, inadequate expression of how much I admire you." And she closed her eyes to kiss him. 

The tension in his jaw and his shoulders was still there, trembling underneath her tender kisses. He ended the kiss by lowering his face and he fell to his knees with a thud. His shoulders shook and he held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from crying.

She stepped in closer to hold and stroke his head, gently pressing his face against her. Her voice was thick with tears. "Please let me comfort you."

He wrapped his arms around her and finally just cried with long, heaving breaths. For what felt like minutes, she stood there as she tenderly stroked the stubble on his shaved head, his face buried in her dress, his strong arms hugging her a little too tightly. Eventually, his grip loosened and he bent down to lean on the floor as he wiped his face. She crouched next to him and touched his shoulder.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm sorry." He grumbled with his face still in his hand. "I get so caught up in my own shit…"

"You're welcome, my dear." She patted him on the shoulder. "You don't always have to be tough. Not here."

He sat down on the floor, thinking about what had just happened. Then he shook his head and his mouth curled into a grin as he elbowed her in the ribs. "You crafty bitch…"

"Ow, Eddie!" She toppled over and rubbed her painful side. "I'm a little delicate."

"That's what you get for your fucking Ring of Honor handshake." He laughed. "Right after I said I wasn't in the mood. Do you even know what honor means?"

She hung her head. "That was unfair of me, I realise that. I wanted to make a quick emergency brake. But that's no excuse. I'm sorry I tricked you."

"You're fine. I was bein' difficult." He made a dismissive gesture, and then he seemed lost in thought for a second.

Octavia got up and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "What's on your mind?" She asked.

"You hypnotized me when I said I wasn't in the mood." He said thoughtfully. "That wasn't roleplay."

She lowered her eyes again. "I used a sneaky technique. I abused your trust."

"No, that's not what I meant." He moved to sit beside her on the bed and grabbed her hand. "We're good. It's all good. I was just thinkin' you can really force me. You can really stop me."

She sighed and touched her own face. "Eddie, you're an incorrigible masochist."

"Don't you fucking tell anyone." He jokingly pointed at her.

With her hands up in the air, she replied: "I wouldn't dare."

He looked into her eyes and tilted his head thoughtfully. "That's not what I meant tho. I mean, you were preparing for something far worse then just me bawling my eyes out."

Octavia frowned and smiled wryly. "I know what you're capable of, violence is within the realm of possibility."

"And you can stop me." He grinned and there was a twinkle in his eyes. "You don't understand how rare that is. My head never stops. I'm always on. And you can make it stop."

Those words warmed her heart. She touched his face and gave him a smouldering look. "Stop what exactly?" Her voice was low and captivating. "What's your head thinking in this moment, Eddie? Are you thinking of anything in particular right now? Anything at all? Or is it all just hot air? Is your head full of hot air with nothing of substance inside?"

He blinked heavily and his carefully sculpted brow furrowed. Her words were making him feel things he hadn't expected. Hesitantly, he pushed her hand away and opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him.

"Thinking was never your strong suit, was it? Doesn't it feel better to admit that? Doesn't it feel nice to just be your own empty-headed self around me? You can just drop all the pretenses. I can see right through you anyway. I know what you're thinking. I know what's inside your head. Nothing but hot air. Nothing of substance."

He raised one finger in the air as if there was a point he wanted to make, but he couldn't remember it. He stuttered, starting over several times. "I eh… It's… So, I…"

She stared into his eyes and slowly shook her head. "It's ok if you can't speak, Eddie. It's ok if you can't actually form a coherent sentence. I know there's nothing but hot air inside your head. Nothing of substance. It's ok if you can't think. You can just sit here without having to think about anything. It's ok."

His eyes glazed over as his hand fell limply into his lap. His shoulders slumped and his eyes blinked more and more as his face relaxed into a blank expression.

She lovingly stroked his beard as she stared into his vacant eyes. "See? You can just be with me like this. No need to think about anything. You can't have any sad thoughts or bad thoughts when you admit that you have no thoughts at all."