Cruel. Calculating. Methodical. A bitch.

These were all things that described Stephanie McMahon the character.

Nurturing. Loving. Supportive. Dedicated. Intelligent. These described Stephanie McMahon the woman. Like any McMahon she wanted the best for her boys and girls. She thought nothing of staying up long hours to help them through professional and personal problems. To see talents grow and thrive in her company…that was something special. Something that filled her with such pride and joy that it kept her going even in the darkest and most difficult of times.

It's why she didn't mind playing the bitch. The villain. The egomaniac. Because it gave something for her boys and girls to bounce off of, to use as an anchor to be the best heel or face possible through feuds or alliances. Many outside of the company who didn't participate backstage thought Seth was her favorite, but when it came down to it she had no favorites. All she had was a never dying drive to push those to do their best and provide them what they needed to reach each new personal best.

Which is why she had begun this feud with Dean Ambrose. Because he was an astounding talent. Great in the ring and even better on the mic with a rough and rowdy charm that appealed to those backstage and the higher ups as much as it did the millions and millions of WWE fans. But something was flagging in the young man and she honestly couldn't blame him. Passed over for title shot after title shot, truthful promises of his day eventually coming while Seth and Roman exchanged world title reigns just wasn't enough anymore.

But feuding with a McMahon? Now that could draw in any talent's interest and Dean was no exception. Although Stephanie herself found it frustrating. She knew the character he dawned in the independents, his issues a hyperbole of true life experiences and his mistreatment of women for the sake of storylines not a misogynistic streak (he was the politest little scrapper she had ever met), but a manifestation of mistreatment he experienced at the hands of the fairer sex. It was frustrating to Stephanie he couldn't bring that inner character out, that calling her a bitch or physically dragging her around the ring wasn't conducive to a PG product.

So she did what she could, surrounding herself with the remaining League of Nation members as Dean trampled one after another while she dueled it out on the mic with him. But the spark, the fire she knew he could have deep down inside just wasn't quite there. Not yet. Hopefully with a little bit more it would be, but in the meantime she was cooking up something fabulous for him to pitch to her father and the rest of upper management to give him that extra 'unf' in his career.

Tonight seemed like any other RAW, Dean scheduled to wrestle Del Rio who would lose via disqualification, the League of Nations beating him down after the fact. This would then be followed by a snarling and snapping promo from yours truly, demeaning him in front of the entire audience. Little did she know something small would change the whole course of her and Dean's relationship.

The match went on without a hitch, Stephanie waiting and watching backstage as Dean hit Dirty Deeds, the crowd on their feet as he dove in for the three count before Sheamus and Rusev stumbled into the ring, beating him down. A super kick there, a Brogue kick here, and Dean was laying on his stomach, huffing and puffing as Stephanie's music hit, a staff hand motioning her towards the entrance ramp.

A chorus of boos showered down on her as her heels clicked on the metal ramp, a swarm-y, closed-mouthed and tight smile gracing her lips before she brought the mic up. "You just don't get it, Dean, do you?" She began, climbing up the steel steeps before elegantly stepping into the ring, stopping mere centimeters from his head. Weakly the young man tilted his head up, wincing as he sold the beat down. "How many times do I have to explain this to your simple little mind, huh?" She clutched onto a handful of curly, reddish brown sweat slicked locks, bending her hips at the waist and forcing those wide, tired blue eyes to meet her furious gaze. "I am the Authority. I own you. I control your world and you are nothing…" She paused then, knowing that this promo was meant to end here, that she was meant to leave him there and exit with the same showering of boos, but she needs to up the intensity. "Nothing but a scared little boy with mommy issues."

The broken look in Dean's eyes, tears seemed to almost instantly form as she lets go of his hair makes her regret the line. Because Ambrose wasn't meant to cry, is meant to be cool and controlled chaos and she knew then that she struck a chord with the man behind the persona. And this was not okay. She was supposed to help her girls and boys, not cause them true harm. Stephanie was still greeted with the appropriate boos as she swallowed dryly, receding backstage as RAW went to commercial.

"Roman, have you seen Dean?" Because she needed to apologize, to see if this particular special boy was truly okay.

Roman swallowed the gulp of water before giving Stephanie a sympathetic, soft gaze. "He's uh, still in his locker room. Hasn't left it since your guys' segment earlier."

Shit. She had feared that. How could she be so crass and careless?

"We tried to tell him RAW's wrapping up now, but, uh...he said he's just gonna call a cab back to the hotel." The Samoan shrugged then, looking a bit clueless as to what was wrong and for that Stephanie was grateful. The cameras must have missed that look he made, that look that had been haunting her since.

"Thanks. Now go back and get yourself some must deserved rest." And with a small hug and a pat on Roman's shoulder, her heels began clicking furiously as she rushed to the room designated for Dean to change in.

Patience was never a big attribute of Steph's and that's painfully evident as her fist raps against Dean's door, her hand nearly colliding with the broad chest of the young man she was seeking to consol. Goodness, his eyes were a shade of red and puffy, ring gear and the slick smell of sweat dripping off of him evidence of that fact he hadn't showered since his match. The McMahon had really done a number on her talent with the comment she mad and she would kick her past self if she could.

"Yes, ma'am?" It's demure almost, seemed strange on his rough and brash voice.

"Can we speak, Dean? I…I know it's late and you might have plans for tonight, but…" She stepped inside, continuing the speech she had been playing back in her head ever since their segment completed, Dean shutting the door behind her. "…I wanted to apologize."

His nose scrunched up then in confusion, his bizarrely handsome features looking downright adorable to the older woman as she took a seat on one of the benches in the makeshift changing room. "You ain't got nothing to be sorry for." Dean shrugged then, pulling up a stray chair and sitting on it backwards, fingers beginning to tap against it nervously, much like he tapped against his own collarbone at times of stress outside and inside of the ring.

"But I do, Dean." Before he could retort she stuck a finger up patiently, signaling that she needed to finish. "I was completely and utterly out of line with that comment. I went off script and I know that you have too much pride to admit it, but it clearly struck a chord with you. And I am absolutely sorry. It was unprofessional and inappropriate of me."

Dean broke her gaze then, staring down at his still taped up hands, flexing for a moment as Stephanie drew the conclusion that they were quite a nice pair of hands. "I dunno, I mean…" His pink tongue lapped out for a moment, wetting his bottom lip before he continued. "…I didn't expect it, but it's…it's not like you're wrong. I, uh, I do…um…have those problems, y'know…with older women and stuff." A rough rub of the back of his own neck, hand clenching the wooden chair tightly.

"I…this is why I need to apologize and express to you that I will never, ever address something like this again." Her heart ached for him, truly. Because despite all his success and talent, he still suffered due to the cruelty and incompetency of a weak woman, unfit to raise a child and who's only contribution to the world was bringing such a brilliant talent to life. "I knew it was a sensitive topic for you and broached the issue. And while I do think it is something we would like to help you deal with eventually, Dean, I should not have pushed it to the forefront like that."

"Apology accepted, Steph." Followed by a dimpled grin, but there's hesitance in those blue eyes, flickering away quickly in a manner she had become familiar with when the young man had more to say.

"Dean, is…" She breathed in then, before laying a gentle hand on one clenching grip. His hand relaxed instantly, but he didn't dare meet her gaze as she spoke. "…is there something I can do for you now? Something I can help with? You know I always want to do right by my talent in any way possible. I take care of my girls and boys…" Stephanie stopped then, still not quite being able to catch his gaze or attention once more and decided to add a little more. "…that includes my very special baby boys like you."

A shaking breath was sucked in then and he yanked his hand away, standing up violently from the chair. "Your…you can't just say shit like that!" His voice was loud then, echoing against the four corners of the dimly lit room as he began pacing and for a moment Stephanie is reminded by just how truly art imitated life. "You can't j-just…just, just offer that kinda shit up. What do you want from me, huh?"

The McMahon sighed then, deciding not to reply instantly as the wrestler began to calm himself slightly, rubbing violently at the collarbone connected to his bad shoulder. "I want to know what will make you feel better, Dean. What will help you feel more relaxed and at ease. We…I value you a lot here and what you bring to the company. And I don't want it to be put to waste. I don't want you to suffer with a problem that we can help solve. So please…" She leaned forward then, taking on a sweet and genuine tone as her own eyes demanded his attention. "…tell me what my special little boy needs."

Dean looked down then, body seemingly vibrating despite the fact he was inhumanely still. The stillness was even more eerie with the fact it was Dean fucking Ambrose. "Lemme…lemme be your baby boy."