Dec 23, from the Motel.

What, you really thought he wanted to intrude anymore on this family?

Now, he had no surviving family on his mother's side, and he had refused to stay with cowboy. Cowboy wouldn't sign over rights to let him get adopted, or just govern himself has a person. It was law. As long as he could manage himself, have constant income, and finish school, he'd be fine. He knew right from wrong, and nothing was right.

He told Cowboy he was staying with a friend, and while that worked for a while, the case worker decided to involve herself and the law. Forcing him to go to to Cowboy's, which reeked of another time. Another century. In his short time there, he had set up a modem, called the cable company out (since they were due upgrades), and get him at least an almost-respectable flip phone. They had maybe one good night, and that's only because Louis was questioned about his life. Bob smiled, and nodded, listened. Didn't talk much. Didn't ask about things he deemed unimportant, and Louis hadn't picked up on it. That was his mistake.

First, they fought about school. Then Bob's diet. Then, how he treated Elaine. Then, punch. Then about wrestling. Then an almost murder.

Louis wasn't necessarily the smallest guy, or the smartest either, but he had morals. Good habits. He stood up for right from wrong, and this was wrong. Disciplinary actions were good and dandy...on younger kids was fine. But a seventeen year old? An innocent one at that? He knocked Bob off his damn feet. Literally, he went toe to toe with Bob. Elaine stopped that one.

They flew to Tampa, didn't know Bob was using money he hardly had, and he was just told for "family". Well, he had enough. He was not going to ruin someone else's Christmas. Let this family mind their own. Florida had good living, a good environment, prices, it was all nice. He could do this alone. So when Bob got back, silent, and his face still slightly bruised, he was out. Took the 100$ Bob given, and ran like hell. Took his backpack, and would find something. Anything besides this shit. Law or not, he refused. Bob would look high and low, because he didn't want to get in trouble, and well, trouble might wake him up some. That he was ignorant, and needed some sort of help, or a home. Anything but someone else to care for.

Louis, that must be your Momma flashing through you. Bob, actually get better? Smarter, if anything? He had already told you school wasn't needed since you were going to be a "rassler," he was set in his ways. In all honesty, he had negatively effected Randy enough, you and Travis were untouched. Well, you were harmed physically, but mentally you had your shield up. Randy wasn't so lucky, (And that's why Randy basically gave him hell over the phone in chat, and he couldn't even keep up with half the things he was saying.)

Bob hadn't ever been hit like that before. Not by some punk kid. He was going to teach that boy something. All of these boys. Even the fourth generation superstar to be, who needed not to be spoiled (You, Travis.)

While he was in the bathroom, getting a shower, he was reminded constantly of his age, and the fight he had not too long ago. That boy was fast. He sides ached, his face pained when he frowned, or showed any emotion. It took him about forty minutes to get done, and that's when he realize the boy was gone. After searching high and low, and calling him twice, he realized that he had left, and wasn't responding.

"Your brother is runnning off somewhere." He left as a voicemail to Randy. He'd come back. (Little did he know, right?)

Travis might not ever become aware of just how unaware he truly is. In turn, that would prove that Randy his/is/will do an amazing job as a parent. Currently, a few things were still being discovered, and they were figuring each other out. Also, a "usual" had been set, one that was filled with talking (and roughhousing) and neither of those were happening. His Dad was in a...trance or something.

Mind you, this was the same guy who made himself into a superhero in Travis's eyes. He had single-handedly saved Christmas byp calling Santa and making him still bring gifts to the house. It wasn't too hard to fool Travis, his intelligence and constant of naive meshed almost perfectly. But Randy had taken all of this and at least made a hell of a holiday season. Even when Santa got ruined by someone, this would be one for the books. And now, for more than one reason.

He didn't know a Bob. Stacy never said anything, but it was obvious that Stacy did do a lot either as Travis got older. One was handling him in general as he got older. Though he did show signs of maturity sometimes, once he knew how to push a button, he did. He was dramatic, liked attention, and sometimes did make trouble if that meant changing the mood. It could be good and bad.

If Randy was so distracted, then he wouldn't hear the seatbelt unbuckle, and gain such a smirk to his face. It was devious, and he was looking out the window. He might rebuckle in the near future. Might. We'll see how this goes. If anything, he would get his Dad's mind off whatever it was.

He'd ended up making arrangements with Cowboy to meet with him at the diner closest to Randy's apartment building. He'd gotten the name of the motel out of Bob, which was as good as fuck-all if ...Cowboy's son..wasn't staying there. Randy needed a cellphone number or something on the kid.

He'd hung up and looked over the seat.

"YOU PUT THAT ON BEFORE I PUT IT ON FOR YOU. AGAIN."

Ever get yelled at in a car before? Sucks, right?
Well, ever get yelled at by Randy Orton in a car? Sucks even worse. Even hurt his own ears there.

"Sorry, pal," he said quietly, before trying to call Cowboy back. How to get this..Louis person...to meet with them at the diner. The diner was a public place, which meant there was a modicum of safety for all parties involved. If this meeting happened in the apartment, as Randy originally had thoughtlessly suggested, there was a good chance Travis would bear witness to a fucking brawl that would put a Royal Rumble to shame. Travis would be begging to go home to Stacy if that had been the case.

But the diner? Well, Randy and Trav were to have eaten at the strip mall where they'd shopped, but somebody's misbehavior had landed them back in the car. So yeah. The diner could serve a purpose. And he might as well, not for Cowboy's sake, but for his own, to put the wondering to rest, see if he could meet this...Louis guy.

Once Travis is rebuckled, he's calling Cowboy back to get Louis's cell number.

As far as he knew, this person was from work, and Randy would just have to learn about to behave.

And then he yelled, and made the whole backseat vibrate, it felt like. That whole negative attention thing flew right out of the window almost instantly when he froze. The eye contact was bad enough and he had already caved, but that tone. Yeah, something was definitely wrong here, and it was not the time for joking.

Bad enough, he'd probably yell at Bob. Remember when you and Cody played around, and he get extremely defensive of you? Bob would have to back down...or get called a "Roach!" or something. He didn't know just how lucky he was that they all weren't at that apartment at the moment.

He'd shut up again. His plans had been shut down effectively, so he'd just wait for orders.

If Bob was ever called anything by that little boy...Well, just do it find out. Better yet, ask your Daddy. He probably had a damn good idea.

Hell, Randy might end up next if the attitude kept up. You were not raised like that Randal, nor do you ever talk to him like that, ever.

He gave the number over when Randy had called, and was appreciating the silence that he was getting. He knew Randy was mad at him, but figured the silence meant he was coming around, and everything would be good by the time they settled in for their meal. If that doesn't show you just how out of touch he is with his own family, nothing will.

Now, while Cowboy might've pushed Randy around, and to a degree, still does, don't think for a second he wouldn't intervene if something went down, if Cowboy made a grab for Travis. If Travis calls you a roach, you ain't even know what that means, so don't. Just don't. Pick your battles. Ain't that what you always said you -tried- to do with your own kid? Even though what you said and what you did ain't always one and the same...practice what you preach.

This ain't to say that in the unforeseen event of Cowboy having to watch Travis (and let's pray that we got enough child care in place that this doesn't happen), if Travis stepped that far out of line, that Cowboy wouldn't have reason. But let's think about how far reason is going to be taken. Better not go too far, or else somebody ain't ever gonna see his grandchild again.

While Randy got out of line over the phone with Cowboy, there's damned good reason for it, and even Cowboy has to understand that in some way. You don't just drop news like "Oh. Hai. You haz a half-brother 14 years your junior." Then when you don't get a happy response..what the fuck was I supposed to say, "Yaaaay" and wave my fucking arms like Kermit the Frog?...Then you end up rolling with him and calling me. 2 days before Christmas. FML.

"Unbuckle your seat belt, Trav."

Randy was getting out of the car and coming around to the back. There's a little convenience store here in this parking lot, and Randy got him out of the car and handed him a $5. "Go get Skittles, see if they have the big bag." He set Travis down in the front of the store, and Randy remained standing there, waiting for him, while Travis went on a candy hunt.

It was at this moment he placed the call to the number Cowboy gave him.

"Pick up," he said quietly.

He wasn't trying to talk to anyone really. The phone was ringing, and since he was pausing for just a minute outside of some department store, he figured it was just the police or some WWE agent or some shit, trying to protect the family image. If anything, this person would call it off, he could lie his ass off. Not saying he was the smartest, or the most cunning, in improving was something he handle well.

"Who is this?" He asked, right off the back. Was the smartest, but not the dumbest, either. Somebody already knew, because this was a Tampa number. Which means he was already having to watch his back.

Now he was thinking that he didn't need to stay in town. Florida had plenty of big times, and he just needed on bus, or some chance to get over to one. One of those trucker stops might have a bus passing through, he could buy his way on, or something.

He shook his head. He was thinking so far ahead he was spacing out, and unfortunately he didn't have that luxury.

The "who is this?" answering of the phone jolted Randy to attention, and he couldn't label the accent. Midwestern? Maybe. Not Northerner. Could have a little Southerner. But the stranger with the accent he couldn't place was technically his brother. There wasn't too much of a pause before Randy responded.

"This is Randy Orton." The voice he spoke in was that unemotional, detached tone that so many familiar with his work know, like in the voiceover for the WWE '12 commercial. Randy kept an eye on Travis as he shopped, and spoke again without giving Louis much of a chance to let that sink in, who he said he was. "Look, this is a fucked up situation. Tell me where you're at, and me and my son will pick you up. He ain't with us." Who 'he' is is obvious. "It's just me and Travis. Now, where you at."

"You don't want to be in this, or drag your son into this. If he's like this with me, I can only imagine how he is with anyone else. Not to mention another kid. I can get myself back upstate, you just gon with what you're doing. It's nothing."

Well, he was downplaying, obviously it was something. But who really needs to drag others along like this? This is already too much, for too many people. Talking to his brother for possibly the first time, assuming they've never ran into each other before, and the circumstances why are probably the worse they could ever be. Bob's death might be more enjoyable, hell.

"Uh....I didn't -ask- you. I -told- you to tell me where you're at."

Maybe that's a way Cowboy would structure a sentence, in the form of a demand, and of course, the trickle-down theory dictates that his kid(s) pick up that manner of speaking. But there was no tone behind it like Bob's. The "If you don't do what I tell you, I'll -make- you do it." No. The tone was insisting but without threat. If anything, it was an offer of assistance. The fact that nobody should deal with Bob 1-on-1 is something Randy's known for his whole life.

He could also hear the downplaying.

"And shit, you never know if you're gonna need a liver or somethin' one day. I could be a match," he chuckled in a grim tone. Basically saying they should meet, so shit. Just tell him where you're at.

Randy glanced over the back seat again, checking on Trav, before focusing on the phonecall again.

"It's Christmas. Give me the address."

For the record, his ears were still ringing from that scream.

For the record, Santa will leave extra shit on account of that.