It had been a stupidly simple moment. After weeks of wearing a neck brace or orthopedic pillow, urged by David Otunga, Alberto Del Rio and the trainer- who'd explained further that the rehab Ricardo Rodriguez is still going through following the Brogue Kick by Sheamus had sufficiently strengthened and stabilized his neck so that he could be without it for brief periods of time if he so wished- to wear it at WWE events just in case he should get cornered or mixed up in a physical confrontation while trying to fulfill his ring announcer duties, keep his recovery from backsliding or his still lingering whiplash from worsening. Not that Del Rio would allow such nonsense, but anything can happen in WWE, they all know.

Even with this warning in the back of his mind, when AJ Lee looks at him, Otunga and Alberto, and places them in a six man match against Sheamus, Mysterio and Sin Cara, he bites his knuckle and thinks. I can handle this, he tells himself even as the lawyer and his employer screams at her that he's just a ring announcer, he has no formal in-ring training. I can.Injecting himself into the conversation when the off-balanced General Manager seems unaffected by their cries, he tells them as much, peeling the neck brace off and marveling in how good it feels to be without the restraining item once more. "Arriba!" he exclaims, leaving them behind as he dashes out of the room, strangely excited for the first time in weeks.

And yeah, considering about three weeks ago he could barely walk on his own power, the match... well, it could've gone worse, he supposes. Otunga eats another Brogue Kick, Alberto lands awkwardly against the barricade wall after trying to stop Sheamus from attacking Ricardo and has a headache afterwards, Ricardo eats the pin and leaves with a throbbing back and chest, his face not feeling too great either after that 619, but none of them realize just what that little match's end result will be until they arrive at Smackdown that Friday.

Somewhere in the second hour of the show, Alberto heads to the ring to once more state his case towards why he deserves another title opportunity, Ricardo nodding or disagreeing in all of the right places, when Booker T's music starts. The Mexican artistocrat's eyes light up, thinking perhaps the General Manager has finally seen reason, but when he storms towards the ring, walk purposeful and tense, they exchange uneasy looks as Ricardo hovers behind Del Rio, watching on nervously.

Once in the ring, Booker paces a bit before turning his gaze onto them. "Y'know, Alberto, if there's one thing I don't like in this business, it's bein' lied to. Made a fool of." His dark eyes turn towards Ricardo, his lips twisting angrily. "I honestly believed ya about the Brogue Kick injuring Rodriguez here, and I really did feel kinda bad about reinstatin' the kick last minute until I was watching Raw this past Monday and what do you know, he not only managed to wrestle a whole match, he did it without the neck brace that he'd been basically clinging to for the last month."

Del Rio, looking confused and a little annoyed, reaches behind him blindly and grips Ricardo by the collar and shakes him slightly, pulling him forward so they're elbow to elbow, looking at Booker. "He was injured by your champion, what is your point?!" he snaps, eyes now squinting darkly at the other man.

"My point," he sighs, musing. "What is my point... Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me. It's pretty simple, here, dawg. You have a choice and I'm gonna be nice and let you decide. I won't even ask the audience, I know how you hate when I do that." He takes a step to the side so he can see Ricardo better and finally says something that shatters both of their worlds. "I can't have liabilities hanging around when I'm trying to run a show. It makes things more complicated than they need to be. So putting this as simply as I can, you have two choices."

While he pauses again, Alberto loses his temper, releasing Ricardo long enough to approach Booker. "What are you doing?!" The ring announcer holds him back, knowing that his possibly placing his hands on the GM would only make matters worse, looking somewhat relieved when Del Rio shakes him off and rejoins him by the turnbuckle, glaring even more viciously over at the other man. "Stop taunting me, perro! Say what you have to say!"

Booker smirks at this and rolls his eyes. "Maybe I should just forgo all of this and put you in manners school. But no," he finally says, speaking over Alberto's hissed Spanish insults. "I've made my decision. Your choices are... you can either fire Rodriguez right here, right now, or you can never receive another World title or WWE title opportunity again. Simple as that."

Ricardo freezes, his breath stuck in his lungs, as he grips Alberto's shoulder tightly, fingers digging into the flesh there. No, no, no, is all he can think, a littany of denials working through his numbed senses.

"Are you loco?!" Alberto snarls at Booker, his hands curling into fists at his side. "He was not faking! He's been rehabbing for weeks! I will not be forced into a decision such as this!"

"Oh, but you are. The board of directors sanctioned this decision," Booker volleys back, not intimidated in the slightest by the glower on Alberto's face. "So... what'll it be, Alberto? What's more important to you? Your title aspirations... or your personal ring announcer?"

Ricardo swallows as Alberto turns to look at him, the younger man unable to look up- not wanting to see the expression on his El Patron's face. He knows the answer without Del Rio even opening his mouth, just wants this moment to end already. But he didn't get this job in the first place by being weak or pathetic, so he stands his ground and waits, eyes trained on the shiny applique covering Alberto's black wrestling trunks, counting his breaths as Alberto shakes his head and walks over to him, his steps slow and measured as if he wants to delay what he has to do.

When he finally arrives and rests his hands on Ricardo's shoulders, staring down at him, he peers at the scarf drifting down his chest and wonders vacantly what Alberto will do with it now during his matches. "Ricardo," he says lowly. "Look at me." Unable to ignore an order from the older man, he glances up and swallows, overwhelmed by the grim look on Alberto's face. "This isn't over. I will get Otunga to look into this." His fingers rubbing soothing circles through the layers of the tux that had been a constant presence in Ricardo's life for the past two years, Del Rio opens his mouth, about to say something else when a microphone appears between them, both men turning to find Booker standing to the side. "Hey!" Alberto snarls at him, releasing Ricardo so roughly that he almost pushes the younger man aside. "Get that out of our faces right now!"

Booker shrugs, backtracking a bit. "Just thought the WWE Universe would want to hear you finally firing Rodriguez," he mumbles.

He snarls, takes a deep breath to calm down, and turns back to Ricardo, this time cupping his face to make him look back at him. "Trust me. This disgraceful situation will not stand." His eyes are heavy and sad as he finally pulls away and adjusts his scarf, trying to look impeccable and without an ounce of weakness as he peers at the younger man. "You are hereby terminated as my personal ring announcer, Ricardo." This doesn't get caught on microphone but it's obvious what he'd said as Ricardo sinks back against the turnbuckle, looking ill.

Alberto grips his upper arm, supporting him, when Booker makes his presence felt once more. "Security, if you would please-"

Del Rio rounds on him once more, near exploding again. "No! He will not be disrespected in such a manner!" he screams at him, the microphone in Booker's hands picking up each and every word this time. "I will escort him personally out of the building, you keep those peasants away!"

To his credit, the Smackdown General Manager doesn't back down, the two men glowering at each other until finally he sighs. "Fine, fine. But if y'all do anything to sabotage this show, it won't only be Rodriguez getting terminated here tonight, you dig?"

Del Rio doesn't respond, just sneers at him before turning his focus once more to a still motionless Ricardo. "Come," he tells him quietly. "Let's get out of this vile building."

"You have a match," he points out vacantly as they're heading up to the ramp, Alberto's arm loosely around his shoulders while he guides him away from all of the prying eyes of the audience members.

"I have time," he soothes. "Come, come." He waits and he watches as Ricardo collects his few things, visibly trying not to lose it as he stuffs what he's collected into his duffel and slings it over his shoulder, standing back up. "Is that all?"

"Si," he whispers, voice cracking miserably on just that small word.

Alberto feels horrible, almost considering what would have happened if he had chosen to spare Ricardo, give up any further title opportunities. But he knows a decision like that only would lead to bitterness and regrets, and he doesn't want that. He's let his temper overwhelm him enough to Ricardo's detriment.

They've barely made it to the parking garage when Otunga finds them. "Mr. Rodriguez, Mr. Del Rio," he greets his former clients. "May I have a minute?"

Alberto frowns at him, glancing over his shoulder at the still dazed looking Ricardo. "We do not have time for this."

David holds a hand up, as always the smarmy lawyer looking for a new case to add onto his billable hours. Especially if it's the Mexican aristocrat before him covering the bill. "I understand, I just think perhaps you'd like to listen to this. I would like to look through Mr. Rodriguez' contract, see if I can find something that WWE's... esteemed general manager," he says with a sneer that only almost matches Alberto's own, "...overlooked. Perhaps something to reverse his decision."

Ricardo tries not to feel too hopeful, knowing that nine times out of ten, things like this doesn't work out, but he takes one look at Alberto and sees the wheels turning in the powerful man's head. That, more than anything, makes him think that somehow, all of this will be resolved to his liking in the end. After all, Alberto Del Rio always gets what he wants eventually.

But it doesn't stop the here and now, Alberto curtly agreeing to Otunga's suggestion to meet up later on and discuss things after the show before he turns his focus back on Ricardo and getting the fretful man back to the hotel room they had left only hours earlier, planning Alberto's next move in his road to the World Title. Neither of them had realized just what the evening would bring and Ricardo closes his eyes against the memories, trying not to completely freak out.

"It is ok, mi amigo. We will get this sorted out," Alberto tries to convince him when he stops his fancy car at a red light and looks over to find Ricardo staring through the windshield, pale and thin-lipped, his knuckles white as he holds onto the bowtie that he had roughly tore off once they'd left the arena. "I will not let that perro General Manager dictate my career in such a way." When Ricardo barely responds to his confident words, he frowns. "Trust me."

He glances over, an unreadable look in his dark eyes. "I do, El Patron." His voice cracks on the nickname he had given his employer, even Alberto looking briefly sad before turning his attention back to the road ahead. Ricardo has been through many rough things in his career, injuries (his and Alberto's somehow both equally as painful for him, just on different levels), personal slights, hurtful insults, but having to stand at the door of the hotel, the keycard to their room in hand, and watch as his employer drives away, heading back to the arena alone, is no doubt the most empty, painful thing he's ever endured.

He sits in the half-lit hotel room and stares at the wall, unwilling to turn the TV on and see what his employer is doing without him, knowing that watching and unable to do anything would be the cruelest thing he could put himself through. Even the internet holds no interest to him, his iPad sitting unused on the near by desk. All he focuses on is breathing, blinking. Trying to do anything but count the minutes until Smackdown ends, until Del Rio can return.

Until things aren't as quiet and horrible.

He's still in that position when he hears a keycard in the lock and looks up, hearing Alberto's angry voice echoing through the hallway. He half-smiles, standing to greet him. When he enters, Ricardo isn't that surprised when Otunga follows closely behind, looking every inch the dedicated lawyer he is supposed to be, with his sweater vest, slacks, and bowtie, the ever present coffee mug getting placed on the desk next to Ricardo's iPad as he lays out a stack of papers. Ricardo recognizes the top page as his personal services contract, and the WWE ring announcer contract peeking out from underneath it.

They exchange nods in greeting before Alberto turns to face him, an eyebrow raised. "Are you ready to work at getting your position in WWE back, mi amigo?"

Ricardo flushes, feeling horrible at having to put Del Rio through more work, especially after that Sheamus fiasco only a couple of months ago that had ended so unfulfilled for all three of them. "Si," he murmurs. "If you are sure."

"Of course I am sure! You belong by my side, not stuck here in one of these rooms during shows." He sneers at the hotel room, eyes softening slightly when he takes in the look of uncertainty on Ricardo's face. "What is it, Ricardo?"

"Stuck here?" he finally asks, trying to keep the desperation he's feeling out of his voice. "I do not..."

Alberto half smiles, clapping a hand against his shoulder. "Did you think I would completely fire you, or force you back to Florida or Mexico due to this? No, Amigo. As I said, we will fight this, get your job back, and everything will return to how it'd been prior. In the meantime, I want to keep you nearby, just in case things clear up sooner than even I expect."

A gamut of expressions run across the younger man's face as he stares at the papers, finally taking a breath as he looks up once more at his employer. "Lo siento, El Patron. I should know by now not to doubt you."

Del Rio tilts his head, eyes softening slightly. "It's been a long night, Ricardo. What do you say we let Otunga look these papers over more thoroughly and we'll dicuss things in the morning?" When Ricardo can barely bring himself to do much more than nod, Alberto turns to Otunga. "I'll call you to determine a time to meet in the morning. Gracias."

"Alright. I'll see you both then." He pauses, looking like he wants to say something else, but simply holds his hand out to both men, leaving them to sleep once the rounds of handshakes are completed.

Ricardo sinks into his bed after changing into more comfortable clothes, but he doesn't think he'll be able to sleep. Based on his employer's own antsy movements, he doubts he will be able to either. Even so, he doesn't say anything as Alberto also gets ready for bed and, pausing only long enough to glance over at him as he turns the light off, lays on his back staring at the ceiling. Ricardo can tell by his breathing that he's not asleep yet, rolling over to face his bed. "El Patron?" he whispers after a few minutes.

Alberto says nothing for a moment, finally turning onto his side as well to face Ricardo. "Si?"

For a wild moment, Ricardo feels like a young child protected by the blanket of darkness, whispering to his sibling or a playmate while fighting the pull of sleep to make the time last a little longer. "It will all work out... right?" He watches as Alberto shifts, sighing softly. "El Patron?" he finally persists, not liking the silence coming from the older man. He supposes even in the darkness and quiet of night, the Mexican aristocrat has trouble keeping up pretenses.

Even so, when he whispers back, he sounds as sure of himself as ever. "Of course it will, Ricardo." He pauses, then murmurs, "It has to."

"Si. It has to." They stare at each other for a few more moments, both of their eyes glinting in the half-light coming in from the window. "Buenas Noches, El Patron."

"Buenas Noches, Ricardo. Things will look better in the morning."

The weekend is spent going over contracts and statutes with Otunga, trying to find a way that Booker T's decision could be refuted. Trying to spare Ricardo from more torture, should nothing work out with the various ventures he's making in getting the ring announcer rehired, Alberto handles most of these meetings alone, his eyes quickly swimming with all of the legal terminology he's trying to digest; even though he can read English better than he can generally speak it, it's still difficult and he feels powerless. "It is taking too long," he tells Otunga in aggravation late Sunday, when they're about to wrap up for another day. "I cannot believe this."

Otunga leans forward, dark eyes steady and reassuring as he tries to soothe his client, aware that the man is used to having everything go his way right now. "I know, Mr. Del Rio, but it'll take as long as it takes. Better to spend some time now to ensure we'll win in the end, instead of rushing through all of this just to lose and waste our best chance at rectifying the nonsense Booker T's regime is upholding."

He knows this is true, no matter how he hates it. Nodding his reluctant thanks to the lawyer, he leaves to go get some sleep before they have to travel on to Raw. Ricardo is on the phone when he arrives, lowly talking to what sounds like his mother. "No, Madre, I know," he says. "My time here may be coming to an end, I know. Si... si. I know. Madre. Por favor... Can't we talk about anything else?" He's sounding more and more distressed with each passing moment and Del Rio slowly pushes the door open, making sure his presence is realized as he drops his wallet and rental car key down on the table between their beds. Ricardo's eyes widen and he murmurs a quick farewell to his mother before hanging up the phone. "El Patron," he says uncertainly, fretfully pressing his hands together.

Alberto says nothing for a long moment, unable to deny the turmoil weighing within him. "You don't trust that I will get your position back for you?" he asks finally, his back to Ricardo as he idly runs his hands over things on the table, scattering papers and other meaningless items around. "That I am working my hardest to make this happen? You think you have to prepare to leave?"

Ricardo looks ashamed, shaking his head. "I have always trusted you, El Patron. It is just... you have your own aspirations, and I don't want to be a distraction to you. And..." he swallows, licking his lips. "My madre thinks I should return home, look for new employment opportunities."

His dark eyes flashing, Del Rio shakes his head. "That is unneccessary. Otunga and I will work this out, you'll see. You'll be allowed back in WWE soon enough." Turning to face his ring announcer, he takes in a deep breath. "Por favor, just be patient."

The moment that Ricardo gives in is obvious, his shoulders slumping slightly as he stares at his hands. "Alright, El Patron. I will be."

Alberto releases a faint breath, relieved that he has a little more time to work this all out. "Gracias, Ricardo."

His ring announcer slowly gets to his feet and places the phone on the bedside table, the soft clicking sound it makes almost deafening in the awkwardly silent room. Del Rio stares down at it and shakes his head, vowing to put the pressure on Otunga. He can't expect Ricardo to sit around pointlessly and wait for too long, it wouldn't be fair to him. I will fix this, even if I have to force Booker T out of this position of power.

Otunga meets him at the next show, looking solemn. "I talked with Booker," he says as soon as Alberto gets out of his car, fixing his dark eyes on the lawyer. "He's scheduled some time with us before Smackdown begins."

"Fantastic," he mumbles sarcastically, his fingers pressed in the folds of his scarf as he adjusts it around his neck. "Let's go."

They've been sitting at a large table for Alberto isn't sure how long when Booker finally opts to show his face, sitting down across from them with Teddy on one side and Eve on the other, the woman quickly organizing various papers until the General Manager clears his throat. "Alright, Otunga, Del Rio. What'd you request this meeting for?"

"To discuss Mr. Rodriguez' contract," he says, getting right to it as Alberto sits a little straighter next to him, beady eyes locked on the trio before them.

"Nothing's changed," Booker says, already looking bored of the conversation. "I'm not changing my mind, dawg. He's fired for fraudulently claiming an injury."

"But he did no such thing-" Alberto starts to snarl, almost standing up from his chair in so much anger that he can barely see straight. It is only Otunga's hand on his arm that keeps him in place, a warning glance to his client reminding him that Otunga should do the bulk of the talking here.

"We have records proving otherwise," Otunga says smoothly, the paperwork already waiting on the table before him. "Mr. Rodriguez required strenuous rehab following Sheamus' Brogue Kick, of which he only concluded recently. The neck support was simply a precaution and he was told a few weeks ago, as long as he was careful, he could remove it from time to time. He was cleared medically a few days prior to the match to resume normal activity, which is why he felt comfortable enough to remove the neck support permanently and offer to compete alongside Mr. Del Rio and myself." As Booker T and associates scan the records slid before them, Otunga folds his hands on the wooden surface. "As you can see, you erroneously fired a man who had followed his doctor's suggestions to a T until he had fully recovered."

Booker and his staff pore over the papers, none of them looking neccessarily pleased as their judgment is proven faulty, Booker's basis for releasing the ring announcer slipping off of its already somewhat shaky ground. He looks up, trying to cling to his ideals, not seem like a wishy-washy leader and change his mind so easily. "I'll be in contact with his doctors to discuss this. I'll get back to you."

Del Rio and Otunga exchange a glance once they're alone in the conference room and the Harvard grad smirks. "This is sounding promising. He hasn't got a leg to stand on. If we take them to court, a judge will side with us, no doubt."

Alberto nods absently. He wants to believe the lawyer but he'd heard similiar things back during the initial case against Sheamus and that had fallen apart at almost the speed of light, leaving them with no recourse despite the pain Ricardo had gone through for weeks. I can't let this go the same way, he thinks with a pained grimace. Ricardo didn't need the money from the last case- banning the Brogue Kick would've been beneficial, but it probably wouldn't have guaranteed anything. This case, right now, is much more vital. I need my best friend by my side.

Once Smackdown concludes, he returns to the hotel, sore and more than a little impatient. Booker hadn't mentioned the pre-show meeting once in the few times he'd come across him during the duration of the show, not that he had expected to, and not having a clearcut answer for Ricardo rankles at him. But he can at least tell him that things are- hopefully- beginning to look up. If the look on the trio's face had been any indication when they'd read over all of the proof, the right choice will have to be made, and quickly. Or Del Rio will have no qualms with going through another lengthy court case to get what he wants most right now.

Ricardo is sitting in a desk chair, his head in his hands as he half-watches a TV show. His eyes turn towards Alberto as he enters the room and they just stare at each other. Despite Ricardo being relieved at Alberto keeping him nearby, there is still a deep sadness about him that eats at the Mexican aristocrat. "No change?" he finally asks, trailing a finger nervously against the cherry wood of the table next to him.

Dragging a chair over to sit across from him, Alberto smiles faintly. "We are slowly making progress. Things are moving along the right track. I believe, this time, Otunga will accomplish what I'm paying him for."

Ricardo's expression is both hopeful and grim, as if he wants to believe in his employer's words but afraid to. "I hope so."

Alberto sighs, wishing that he could do, say something to put more faith in the man's expression. But considering how things, legal and otherwise, had gone for them the past few months, he can't really blame him. "I as well, mi amigo. I as well."

Monday unfortunately is quiet, though both Del Rio and Ricardo had expected as much. Booker generally keeps his business to Friday and no amount of wheedling and pressure from Otunga could change that. So Alberto goes to Raw and Ricardo sits and thinks in the hotel room, staring out of the window as the sun sets. He's pretty sure he can't take much more of this, but leaving the Mexican aristocrat's side, abandoning his post as it were, makes him feel almost nauseous.

When Alberto returns from Raw around midnight, he finds his ring announcer still unmoving from where he'd left him hours earlier and his face falls, compassion and regret welling up within him. "Ricardo?" he asks quietly, venturing towards the younger man who reacts like he's been burnt, jerking and quickly turning to look at him. "Are you ok?"

"Oh, si, El Patron," he mumbles, blinking slowly. "How did Raw go tonight? Lo siento, I forgot to watch for you."

Waving it off, Del Rio kneels down next to his chair and stares up into his eyes, unable to read the emotions lurking there. It is unsettling. He knows Ricardo better than anyone, but this... He sighs and shakes his head, trying to smile. "It went well, I won my match. But do not worry about that, how was your evening?" He thinks he knows- not a thing in the room is touched, hotel staff told him they'd not seen Ricardo once. He has a sinking suspicion that the younger man hadn't moved from this spot since Alberto had left, and it leaves him all the more determined to fix this as soon as humanly possible.

"I... It was quiet," he finally murmurs, looking confused for a moment before his expression clears briefly. "Do you plan on returning to Florida tomorrow, El Patron?"

"Yes, Otunga is still in the midst of handling the case and he is going home until Smackdown, so we will as well in case he needs us for anything." Ricardo grows thoughtful and quiet again at the mention of the case and Del Rio sits down next to him, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Do you trust me, mi amigo?" He feels like he's asked this a lot of the younger man during this situation, but as more time passes, he knows it grows more and more difficult for Ricardo to trust in anything. He needs to know that Ricardo believes in his ability to at least right one injustice done to him.

They stare at each other for long, tense moments until finally Ricardo nods, his eyes dark with sincerity. "Of course I do, El Patron."

"Good." He squeezes his shoulder a little tighter and smiles up at him. "Just a little while longer, Ricardo. Have faith for just a bit longer, and this will be over. I swear to you."

Just in case, Alberto insists that Ricardo come with him and Otunga to the arena that Friday, the young man reluctant but not wanting to disappoint his employer even if it means he'll be stuck sitting in the car for over two hours waiting for word. Thankfully the weather is warm enough that he won't be chilly, and Alberto leaves him the keys just in case he has any sort of problem. "If anything changes," Alberto tells him softly, "I will send Otunga straight out to get you. Otherwise, try not to worry too much. One way or another, you'll be back where you belong shortly."

Ricardo nods, looking down as Alberto hands him the book he'd brought to try to distract himself with while he waited. "Gracias," he murmurs. "I... I'll see you soon, El Patron." Alberto nods and disappears towards the arena as the former ring announcer stares down at the book, knowing that it will do very little to hold his attention. He sighs and looks up blankly at the arena, this being the first time since his firing that he'd been this close to one. "I hope this works..."

Alberto locates Otunga almost immediately, lips pursed unhappily as he waits for the lawyer to sift through the pile of paperwork he has on Ricardo's case. "Anything new I should know about?"

"Received notice earlier that Booker's come to a decision, he wants to meet in the ring at the start of Smackdown, in his words 'Get this over with'. I think it's sounding promising," he tells his client. Patting him on the shoulder, he grins. "Is Ricardo nearby? All goes well, he could probably resume working here within the hour."

Alberto nods faintly. "He's in the parking garage in the car, waiting for word." He hesitates, not sure he wants the true answer to this question. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," Otunga says simply. "Trust me, Mr. Del Rio. This whole mess will be sorted out before the end of Smackdown."

He sighs, staring down the hall he'd just walked through to get to Otunga. Past those walls, his ring announcer waits, almost sick with anxiety and dread, expecting more bad news. He just hopes he can give him good news for once, unable to even face the alternative. To have to accept that his money and his connections and everything else had failed Ricardo again... he honestly couldn't stand the aftereffects of yet another failure of that magnitude.

When the show begins and Booker calls them out to the ring, Teddy on one side and Eve on the other, Alberto and Otunga walk side by side down. Del Rio vacantly listens to Realaza as they go, realizing yet again just how empty his theme music sounds without Ricardo's voice alongside it, announcing him to the ring. Hopefully this will be the last time, he thinks grimly as Otunga pulls the ring ropes apart for him to enter the ring.

Once they're all facing off, Booker sighs and holds the mic up to his lips. "I've pored over those documents you gave me. My lawyers have, and even WWE's paralegal department's been over it." It looks like what he's planning on saying is about to cause him great pain and Alberto holds his breath, somehow just knowing that it's going to be good news. "They checked out. Rodriguez had been injured, and had been cleared, there was no fraud on his part." The Smackdown GM looks like he's choking down nails as he finally concludes, "The board of directors have advised me to offer him a new contract, with the caveat that he drop any potential wrongful termination suits against WWE."

It sounds like music to Del Rio's ears but he wants to make them sweat a bit, so he wanders back a few steps, dragging Otunga with him. In his mind, it's just a formality from here on out but he wants the lawyer's honest take to make sure he nor Ricardo are about to get swindled here. "What do you think? Does it sound right?"

Otunga thinks it over for only a moment, his face stoic to the point that it annoys the ever-impatient Alberto but before he can yell at his lawyer, the man speaks, a satisfied gleam in his dark eyes. "Yes, Mr. Del Rio. I'll have to read through the paperwork to ensure nothing will be snuck in without our agreeing to it, but as soon as I do that, we can sign it and Mr. Rodriguez will be back by your side, where he belongs."

"Good." Alberto hesitates, looking back over at Booker T and his cronies, teeth worrying his lips. "I want one more thing from those perros, however. Otunga, go to the parking garage, bring Ricardo back here now. He should be here for this." The lawyer only hesitates briefly before doing as requested, not wanting to risk his handsome retainer by annoying the Mexican aristocrat. As soon as he's gone, Del Rio sighs into his microphone, pacing aggravatedly before them. "That's all well and good, but you have put mi amigo through much stress the past few weeks. If you want him to sign your contract and drop all lawsuits stemming from your thoughtless actions, there's one more thing I want you to do."

"What's that?" Booker asks hesitantly, eyes narrowing as he exchanges weary glances with the other members of his staff.

It's simple and it's impactful, and Booker cringes as soon as Alberto says it. "Apologize right here, on national television." When the general manager flinches and looks like he's about to interrupt, Alberto sneers at him. "Either you apologize to mi mejor amigo as soon as he appears in this ring or the deal is off, and we will sue you and this business for all you're worth."

Booker exchanges glances with Teddy and Eve before facing Del Rio once more. "Fine, I'll apologize. Alright?"

"You better," Del Rio mumbles before hearing the audience rumbling, turning to see Otunga reappear on the ramp. Alberto starts to think he's alone but finally he turns and says something, the curtains slowly parting as Ricardo ventures out onto the cool steel himself and looks around, taking in the sights and sounds he hadn't heard for a few weeks now. The young man looks anxious, like he thinks he may get in trouble for even being out here, and Alberto closes his eyes. Otunga, that idiota, didn't tell him! Although it annoys him, a part of him is also glad because it means he can see the look on Ricardo's face when he finds out, realizes that the horror of this whole situation is now over.

Ricardo makes his way to ringside and looks up at his waiting employer, eyes dark and slightly wet. "El Patron?"

Alberto sighs, hating that look on the younger man's face. "Come into the ring, Ricardo," he calls out to him. "I have something important to tell you."

Once he and Otunga both are inside the ring, Alberto stands before Ricardo with an unreadable look on his face. Resting his hands on top of Ricardo's shoulders, he peers down at him, gauging the exhausted hurt in his eyes. His expression softening, he smiles slightly and squeezes his arms. "Welcome back," is all he says, watching the dawning look of hope in his ring announcer's eyes.

"Que? You mean...?"

"The board has directed that perro GM to offer you a new contract. As soon as Otunga reads it over and we know it's fair, you will sign it and we can move past this nonsense. Si?" His small smile turns into a grin when Ricardo nods, his eyes gleaming with more tears- this time happy and more than a little overwhelmed ones, if the look on his face is any indication. "There's one more thing, however." He taps Ricardo's jaw a couple of times when the younger man starts to look fretful again and smiles, moving to stand behind the ring announcer and direct him closer to Booker T, a warning look in his eye. "You have something to say to him?"

Booker looks like he's swallowed something disgusting but he takes a breath and holds the mic up, large eyes locked on the two men as he painfully concedes. "I wanna apologize, Ricardo. I jumped to conclusions and it wasn't right, dawg. You weren't fakin', I just assumed, and reacted rashly. I'm sorry, alright?"

Glancing at Alberto briefly, Ricardo swallows, then nods. He doesn't really care about Booker's apologies or his reasoning, but apparently the Mexican aristocrat had found it important for him to hear this, and his thankfulness to have his job back grows with each step they take together back up the ramp, both antsy to sign the contract and have things return to normalcy.

It seems to take forever but actually doesn't take that long, the ink dried long before Alberto's match that night, and Ricardo ventures out, feeling about as nervous as he had the first time he'd done this at Del Rio's debut two years ago. Overcome with emotion at being back when he'd feared it'd never happen, he can barely choke the words out with his usual panache, but when Alberto joins him in the ring, he doesn't seem to mind, patting him on the shoulder and smiling at him, dark eyes gleaming. "How do you feel?" he calls over the general noise of the crowd and the fading strains of his entrance theme.

Ricardo can only think of one word. "Thankful," he responds, smiling shakily.

Del Rio sighs, then nods, reaching out to ruffle his ring announcer's hair. "Me too, amigo, me too."