Sweat trickled down his forehead as Wriothesley knocked yet another opponent down. People celebrated from the stands as he was deemed victorious once more. However, Wriothesley couldn’t care less about his numerous fans. Not when he knew you were there. Once he spotted you, a faint smile appeared on his face. He climbed out of the ring as soon as possible and made his way toward you- his irreplaceable manager. The stinging pain from his bruises dissipated just from your presence alone.

“Yet another flawless victory, hm?” he said lightheartedly, head cocked to the side. Before you could even reply, flashing cameras and his adoring fans became increasingly overbearing. Wriothesley swiftly snaked an arm around your waist to shield you from the chaos and directed you backstage, unconcerned about how inappropriate the hand placement seemed. In fact, he seemed to enjoy how the action shocked some fans.