Footsteps quietly pace back and forth just under the sky box above the arena, anxiousness burning through veins and knuckles cracking into clenched fists. Waiting for a match to end shouldn't have taken so long, and the one in the ring should have been a few seconds or a minute, tops.

With the focus of the crowd on Zack Ryder in the ring, they had not been noticed behind the fans stuck in nose-bleed seats. The Shield leader's pace intensifies until he takes a cursory glance into the ring, intentionally for a second, though by mistake his attention had been ensnared.

Ryder was hung up in the ropes, arms trapped when his opponent ran up behind him, striking him in the back of the head before being pulled off by the ref. He dodged out of the ring and laid in a vicious, ruthless kick, before a pinfall attempt. Fandango's aggression, clear and vicious from the second he begun watching, it was …intriguing. He intended to truly injure his opponent, to intentionally cause lasting harm… Ambrose liked it.

He turns to listen to Rollins, who had no doubt but noticed his distraction when he had been in the middle of explaining… something. He listens with his ears still focused on the crowd reaction; though he had fought the urge to turn around and enjoy seeing a good slaughter right before his eyes. As flashy and gaudy as The Ballroom Brawler was, there was just something Ambrose couldn't help but like about what he was seeing, and when Rollins had finished speaking, or rather quieted himself after noticing the unbearable expression in the blue eyes of his leader, he turned his attention back to the arena at once.

The limber star leapt up to the top rope in one graceful movement, delivering an impressive win with a brutal leg drop and easy pinfall. The crowd erupted for him, to the Leader's surprise. A smile crept across his lips, watching the arrogant man re-introduce himself properly to the crowd and pose with his less than interesting blonde valet. Even the way the brawler moved was captivating. Something about him was… perfect. His attention is captured back by Reigns, who was quick to question his motives for watching the match in the ring; with little time left between commercial and Cena's entrance, they had to start waiting to make their move.

Running his hand through his hair, he takes a quick glance back at the arena in time to completely miss seeing the one person who had actually appealed to his desires. Ambrose had never failed at anything before, and this particular thing was just waiting on his queue; he had a new thing to start tracking and focusing on, luckily the darkness at the top of the arena and corridors provided just that opportunity.

With her long black hair in a beautiful French twist up-do, modest height heels clicking in perfect rhythm and villainous eyes veiled by long lashes Mila twirled around the guerrilla position with her partner. Fandango studied her close to make sure the new dress spun correctly and matched the vision he had in mind for tonight, that the soft black fabric covered with white rhinestones had sparkled in such a precise way: a white and blue mini dress lost out on their chance to shine earlier.

He begins to discuss tonight's number with his graceful dancer, a far cry from the routine he had done a couple weeks earlier with prodigy Summer Rae, turning away when he's tapped on the shoulder by a stagehand. The match out in the ring between Randy Orton and Cody Rhodes had gone over their designated time frame, cutting into the new dance number he had planned, more than likely he would have to resort to the old routine. His words are short, to the point without being too threatening to the messenger; which is why he didn't exactly see the reason this man, as well as his beautiful swan princess was immediately backing away and darting out of the area entirely.

The extravagant Superstar rolls his eyes, sighing with frustration - he really hadn't meant to come off as threatening or dangerous, not yet at least. He takes a simple breath to regain composure he's certain he had lost - it hitches in his throat like a gunshot when he turned around; cornered by Dean Ambrose, threatening eyes undressing him from his ring gear and a sinister smile on his lips. Making a quick getaway attempt, he's caught in the powerful arms of Ambrose, his chest pressed up against the black military vest instead of having taken an immediate fall onto the catering table behind him full of water, snacks and energy drinks.

Fandango gasps and struggles against the grip once the realization has fully settled in of his new position, starting to beg for the merciless man to let him go, as he had done nothing to evoke the wrath of The Shield. He pulls away to the best of his ability, his wrist still trapped in the hard grasp of Ambrose who had kept pulling him back toward his body. Fandango pleads, each word drifting playfully through his attacker's ears, trying not to look Ambrose in the eyes he focuses on the rest of the area, searching for any signs of Rollins and Reigns.

Dean grins, it's unintentionally wicked and only progresses as his hand holding Fandango moved to his ribs and caressed down to his hips. The dancer even felt perfect in his arms.

He watches his hands gently moving while the other man is simply frozen in fear, as still as possible with a few nervous vibrations rattling his body. Ambrose's eyes finally follow an invisible trail left by his hands as he cups his face harshly, moving it so that he could see those unfortunately frightened deep blue eyes, he tilts his face a little gentler and releases the hard grip for a softer one. Another unsuccessful venture: trying to make a genuine, friendly smile.

He scans his eyes over him one more time, taking in the sweet sight of their closeness. There were so many different scenarios he had gone over in the past couple weeks of following and watching the man closely, so many opportunities passed up for this one. Dean Ambrose could not bare to sit in wait a day longer.

Unsure how to muster up admitting to a person outside of his two-person social circle that he had actual feelings of love and romance for someone, cared for another human being… it was difficult.

He struggled with his words before coming disclosing it aloud to the man he cared for: Fandango.

There's a silence.

An awkward stare.

A raised eyebrow.

A huff of scarce anxiety and a nervous chuckle from both parties.

Fandango's expression had changed from fear to this confused, silent, uncertain look before he glanced around, looking for Rollins and Reigns before he pulled himself away from Ambrose.

This wasn't a joke… It had not even been set up.

A date?

With Ambrose? Dean Ambrose, the leader of The Shield? This was really happening.

Fandango finally laughs openly at the mere suggestion made moments ago, he shakes his head and arrogantly prattles on about himself, his self-worth, and outright refuses The Shield's leader.

It was his turn to look the man in Special Ops attire up and down, chuckling again and starting to walk off; he looked back, however, just to inform Ambrose of the obvious: Dean simply could not dance; he didn't know how. He had no training in dance of any kind, especially not elegant ballroom dancing, and thus, no worth to Fandango.

The Ballroom Brawler couldn't be with a man who didn't dance; and he certainly was not going to leave his current lover: a trainer for Dancing with the Stars celebrities. Arrogantly, he had even assumed that the refusal was acceptable, and there would never be any ramification for it simply because Dean Ambrose wouldn't - or couldn't, attack the man he loved - because Fandango had seen the look of heart break in the man's eyes the second he refused his affection.