Post by charlirozzi on Nov 19, 2024 8:34:22 GMT -8
After a long morning of what her previous students had come to not-so-lovingly called death drills followed by running the ring for a good half an hour the White Rabbit had requested to speak with Ozzie as soon as he was showered and changed. As the twins were with their father this week, she found it was an opportune time to spend the week at the mansion and their incredibly poor showing on Sunday night had confirmed that for her. Far different from their previous meeting when she had sat to the side of the training area and had a kind, encouraging talk with him; this time she had summoned him to Julian’s office. She sat behind the large ornate desk, notes and paperwork laid out in front of her. She had pulled every piece of information she possibly could about Ozzie’s performance so far.
She had changed out of her gym gear, the simple white mask replaced with the full white rabbit mask, her hair loose down her back and dressed in all black. Her nails tapped on the desk as she waited for him to arrive. His choosing to make her wait wasn’t going in his favour and as she looked over the notes and statistics, her expression was grim. Her mouth in a tight line and her eyes hard, annoyed even. He had so much potential and, because of who he was, she and Julian had put a level of trust in him that they shouldn’t have.
Right now, he was a disappointment and one thing she couldn’t abide, was being disappointed.
Ozzie lingered outside Julian’s office door, rubbing the back of his neck as he prepared himself for whatever storm awaited him on the other side. He wasn’t stupid, far from it. He knew when his name was being cursed behind closed doors. And after Sunday night’s debacle, he had no doubt that the bunny had a few choice words ready to be thrown at him.
The distinct tap-tap-tap of her nails from inside the room made his chest tighten, but he refused to let it show as he pushed the door open. His strides were unhurried, bordering on nonchalant, though his sharp gaze swept over the masked figure at the desk and the meticulously arranged paperwork in front of her.
”Al-I mean, La Lapin Blanc,” he greeted, his tone low and smooth, though there was a glint of defiance in his eyes. He sank into the chair opposite her, leaning back in a way that was either relaxed or deliberately antagonizing—depending on her perspective. ”You called for me, so here I am. I assume this isn’t a chat about how proud you are?”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though he didn’t expect it to last long under the weight of her scrutiny. Still, he couldn’t resist. If he was going to be torn apart, he’d at least go down swinging.
”No. It’s about my disappointment.” She didn’t wait, wasn’t about to let him settle or get comfortable. Even from behind the mask, her glare was one of a disapproving mother. Her nails still tapping against the laminate of the wood as she regarded him slowly. Everything he did was meant to be part of a show, his efforts to control how the meeting went. But she wasn’t in the mood.
”We trusted you… I trusted you to lead these kids and lately it seems as though you simply don’t care, Oz.” Her tone was cool and level, she didn’t let anger spike it, instead she kept him in her gaze, unblinking and unyielding as she spoke. ”You are the next generation of wrestling, you represent everything we’re trying to build here. I don’t know if it’s my maternal fondness for you or your brothers encouragement and belief, but something is making you careless… soft.” That last word was meant as an insult and she annunciated every letter as though it was one.
Even as he sat opposite her, she saw the kid she had known. The one that was trying to find his feet, the one that was able to control and manipulate everyone around him. He had always impressed her, but today she felt so far removed from that. Maybe they had gone too easy on him, allowed him too much space. She dropped both hands down on the desk and leaned in, regarding him intently.
”Why Oz, what the fuck is going on with you?”
Ozzie’s smirk flickered and vanished as her words hit with the precision of a scalpel. The cool, unwavering tone, the deliberate insult—she wasn’t just disappointed, she was eviscerating him with every syllable. He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning forward to meet her gaze, though the defiance in his eyes now felt more like a shield than a weapon.
”Soft?” he echoed, his voice tight, the word cutting deeper than he cared to admit. He ran a hand through his hair, letting the silence stretch for a moment, as if searching for the right way to counter her without admitting she had a point.
”Look, I get it. You think I’m slacking. You think I’m not living up to your expectations or Julian’s or whatever vision you’ve built up for me.” His tone sharpened, though it lacked the venom it might have held under different circumstances. ”But maybe your expectations are part of the problem. You’re not training me to be me, you’re training me to be a symbol, a legacy—some golden child of your little wrestling utopia. And maybe I’m just… sick of trying to live up to an ideal that doesn’t fit.”
He leaned back again, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked down to the desk between them. ”I’m not making excuses. Sunday night was a shitshow. But if you think this is me not caring, you’re wrong. I care, probably too much. And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m so wrapped up in trying not to let everyone down that I’ve forgotten how to wrestle like me.”
His voice softened, his usual bravado stripped away for a moment. ”You say I’ve gone soft? Maybe I have. But maybe that’s because I’ve been too busy trying to be what everyone else wants me to be instead of what I’m supposed to be.”
His words softened her a little, but she didn’t let it show. Even as he moved back and set some distance between them, she kept her eyes trained on him. She understood, the pressure of thinking you need to be someone or something else was a heavy load to carry.
”I don’t want you to be a golden child Ozzie. I expect failure, I practically demand it. You can’t rebuild something that hasn’t broken. I sat with you and I asked you to remember why you were doing this, I reminded you that there’s more to this than other peoples expectations, didn’t I?”
She finally sat back, her fingers tapping against the desk again as she watched him. Some of what he said was true, but how much was him playing on the care he knew she had for him? How much was him trying to hide true intentions… she wasn’t sure, but she knew at least some of this was exactly that and even some was too much.
”What do you care about Oz? Answer me that and answer me honestly.”
I’ll know if you’re lying. She didn’t need to say it, the unspoken challenge was added on to the end of her demand. She couldn’t want this for him, Julian couldn’t want this for him either. Only Ozzie could want this for himself and she wasn’t convinced he did. Even as she waited for his reply, her gaze held him. Her cool tone was measured and demanding.
”I can help you find your feet, but I can’t force you to stand on them.”
Ozzie’s jaw tightened as her words sank in, her calm and measured tone cutting deeper than anger ever could. He met her gaze, knowing full well she’d see through any half-truths or deflections. His mind churned, torn between keeping his walls up and letting them crack just enough to give her what she wanted.
”I care about proving people wrong,” he began, his voice low and deliberate. ”I care about showing everyone who’s written me off that I’m not just some kid coasting on my family’s name. I care about making my mark, about building something that’s mine.”
He paused, running a hand over his face before letting it drop to his lap. His posture shifted, less defensive, more exposed, as if he was letting himself unravel just enough to be real. ”But it’s not just that. I care about the people who see something in me, even when I don’t see it in myself. The ones who push me to be better, not for them but for me.”
His gaze dropped for a moment, then flicked back up to meet hers, his voice quieter but no less certain. ”There’s… someone who makes me want to be better. Not because they expect it, but because I don’t want to let them down. They don’t take my bullshit, don’t let me hide behind excuses. And when I’m with them… I feel like I can be more than just ‘Ozzie Savell.’”
He leaned forward slightly, holding her gaze, his tone raw and unguarded. ”You’re right though, I can’t stand on my feet unless I want it for me. And I do. But part of what makes me want it is them. It’s… complicated, but they matter.”
He didn’t say her name. He didn’t need to. The way he spoke? Like it was as much a confession to himself as it was to her, said enough.
She sat in silence for a long moment, her eyes stayed locked on him the whole time, she didn’t really move or make any indication of what she was thinking as she sat there. Slowly, she leaned forwards again, lifting one hand from the desk and reaching out to place a hand on his. She wrapped her hand over the top of his, holding on to it.
”If that’s what you need, to bring her...” she corrected herself. ”Them here, to have them beside you so you stop adding the expectations of others onto your shoulders? Then we will accept them, I know Julian has had his doubts but he wants to see you succeed every bit as much as I do, Oz.”
She moved her hand from his, sitting up a little and clearing her throat, stripping the slight touch of emotion she had let through from it. When he bared his soul like this, it drew her in. She felt that pull to take care of him that she always had. And even more, stronger even than that pull?
She recognised the love in his eyes, she and Julian had wasted almost a decade denying one another for a hundred different reasons and that wasn’t a burden she wanted to see Ozzie carry as well.
”But in the mean time, Oz?” Her tone shifted back to the cool and measured one she used so often. Her gaze hardening again as she regarded him once more. ”You need to step up and lead this team, you Have to be the person we can trust to ensure something like last night never happens again… because if you can’t do that? I’ll find someone who can.”
Ozzie stayed still as her hand covered his, the rare show of warmth from her something he hadn’t expected. Her words, calm and measured but tinged with an unspoken understanding, hit him harder than the sharpest reprimand ever could. She got it more than anyone else ever had. And in that moment, he felt the weight of what she was offering: not just a second chance, but belief in him when he wasn’t sure he deserved it.
When she pulled back and the familiar coolness returned to her voice, Ozzie straightened in his chair, meeting her gaze with a renewed steadiness. Her last words weren’t a threat—they were a promise. He knew better than to test her on it.
”I get it,” he said quietly, his voice steady now. ”You’ve given me more chances than I probably deserve, and I won’t waste this one. I’ll step up. I’ll lead. Not just for you, or Julian, or anyone else but for me. I’ll make sure last night is the kind of mistake no one even thinks I’m capable of making again.”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before adding, softer now, ”And… I’ll figure out how to stop carrying this shit alone. I know I can’t do it all on my own. And maybe… maybe you’re right about what I need.”
His lips twitched into a faint smile, brief but genuine, before his expression settled back into something more serious. ”I won’t let you down again. That’s not a promise, it’s a fact.”
Ozzie rose to his feet, his posture solid and confident, though the gratitude in his eyes lingered as he looked at her. ”Thank you. For this. For still believing in me.” He paused, his smirk returning faintly as he added, ”Even if you don’t think I deserve it half the time.”
”That’s what family does.” Her tone was as cool and measured as ever, but there was a brief flicker of a smile on her own lips. Looking up at him from her seat behind the desk, she took stock of him, confident that this meeting had started a change she needed to see in him.
”We believe in each other even when aren’t sure you deserve it.” She echoed his words in her own way, before pulling the smile and warmth from her face, waving him away with a dramatic sigh. ”Go make sure none of them are actually dying, they’re feeling very dramatic after this morning.”
Ozzie’s lips twitched into a smirk at her words, the faintest glimmer of amusement sparking in his eyes. ”Family, huh? Guess that makes me the black sheep.” He lingered for a moment longer, the weight of the conversation still settling in his chest, but her dismissal and that brief flicker of a smile was enough to tell him they were done.
He stepped back, his confidence creeping back into his posture. ”I’ll check on them,” he said, his tone lighter now, though he couldn’t resist one last jab. ”Pretty sure they’ll live, but if not, I’ll make sure it’s a dramatic send-off worthy of Division.”
With that, he turned on his heel, his footsteps echoing faintly as he made his way to the door. He paused briefly before stepping out, glancing back over his shoulder, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. ”Thanks... For everything.”
And then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a quiet click, leaving the White Rabbit to her thoughts.
She had changed out of her gym gear, the simple white mask replaced with the full white rabbit mask, her hair loose down her back and dressed in all black. Her nails tapped on the desk as she waited for him to arrive. His choosing to make her wait wasn’t going in his favour and as she looked over the notes and statistics, her expression was grim. Her mouth in a tight line and her eyes hard, annoyed even. He had so much potential and, because of who he was, she and Julian had put a level of trust in him that they shouldn’t have.
Right now, he was a disappointment and one thing she couldn’t abide, was being disappointed.
Ozzie lingered outside Julian’s office door, rubbing the back of his neck as he prepared himself for whatever storm awaited him on the other side. He wasn’t stupid, far from it. He knew when his name was being cursed behind closed doors. And after Sunday night’s debacle, he had no doubt that the bunny had a few choice words ready to be thrown at him.
The distinct tap-tap-tap of her nails from inside the room made his chest tighten, but he refused to let it show as he pushed the door open. His strides were unhurried, bordering on nonchalant, though his sharp gaze swept over the masked figure at the desk and the meticulously arranged paperwork in front of her.
”Al-I mean, La Lapin Blanc,” he greeted, his tone low and smooth, though there was a glint of defiance in his eyes. He sank into the chair opposite her, leaning back in a way that was either relaxed or deliberately antagonizing—depending on her perspective. ”You called for me, so here I am. I assume this isn’t a chat about how proud you are?”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though he didn’t expect it to last long under the weight of her scrutiny. Still, he couldn’t resist. If he was going to be torn apart, he’d at least go down swinging.
”No. It’s about my disappointment.” She didn’t wait, wasn’t about to let him settle or get comfortable. Even from behind the mask, her glare was one of a disapproving mother. Her nails still tapping against the laminate of the wood as she regarded him slowly. Everything he did was meant to be part of a show, his efforts to control how the meeting went. But she wasn’t in the mood.
”We trusted you… I trusted you to lead these kids and lately it seems as though you simply don’t care, Oz.” Her tone was cool and level, she didn’t let anger spike it, instead she kept him in her gaze, unblinking and unyielding as she spoke. ”You are the next generation of wrestling, you represent everything we’re trying to build here. I don’t know if it’s my maternal fondness for you or your brothers encouragement and belief, but something is making you careless… soft.” That last word was meant as an insult and she annunciated every letter as though it was one.
Even as he sat opposite her, she saw the kid she had known. The one that was trying to find his feet, the one that was able to control and manipulate everyone around him. He had always impressed her, but today she felt so far removed from that. Maybe they had gone too easy on him, allowed him too much space. She dropped both hands down on the desk and leaned in, regarding him intently.
”Why Oz, what the fuck is going on with you?”
Ozzie’s smirk flickered and vanished as her words hit with the precision of a scalpel. The cool, unwavering tone, the deliberate insult—she wasn’t just disappointed, she was eviscerating him with every syllable. He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning forward to meet her gaze, though the defiance in his eyes now felt more like a shield than a weapon.
”Soft?” he echoed, his voice tight, the word cutting deeper than he cared to admit. He ran a hand through his hair, letting the silence stretch for a moment, as if searching for the right way to counter her without admitting she had a point.
”Look, I get it. You think I’m slacking. You think I’m not living up to your expectations or Julian’s or whatever vision you’ve built up for me.” His tone sharpened, though it lacked the venom it might have held under different circumstances. ”But maybe your expectations are part of the problem. You’re not training me to be me, you’re training me to be a symbol, a legacy—some golden child of your little wrestling utopia. And maybe I’m just… sick of trying to live up to an ideal that doesn’t fit.”
He leaned back again, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked down to the desk between them. ”I’m not making excuses. Sunday night was a shitshow. But if you think this is me not caring, you’re wrong. I care, probably too much. And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m so wrapped up in trying not to let everyone down that I’ve forgotten how to wrestle like me.”
His voice softened, his usual bravado stripped away for a moment. ”You say I’ve gone soft? Maybe I have. But maybe that’s because I’ve been too busy trying to be what everyone else wants me to be instead of what I’m supposed to be.”
His words softened her a little, but she didn’t let it show. Even as he moved back and set some distance between them, she kept her eyes trained on him. She understood, the pressure of thinking you need to be someone or something else was a heavy load to carry.
”I don’t want you to be a golden child Ozzie. I expect failure, I practically demand it. You can’t rebuild something that hasn’t broken. I sat with you and I asked you to remember why you were doing this, I reminded you that there’s more to this than other peoples expectations, didn’t I?”
She finally sat back, her fingers tapping against the desk again as she watched him. Some of what he said was true, but how much was him playing on the care he knew she had for him? How much was him trying to hide true intentions… she wasn’t sure, but she knew at least some of this was exactly that and even some was too much.
”What do you care about Oz? Answer me that and answer me honestly.”
I’ll know if you’re lying. She didn’t need to say it, the unspoken challenge was added on to the end of her demand. She couldn’t want this for him, Julian couldn’t want this for him either. Only Ozzie could want this for himself and she wasn’t convinced he did. Even as she waited for his reply, her gaze held him. Her cool tone was measured and demanding.
”I can help you find your feet, but I can’t force you to stand on them.”
Ozzie’s jaw tightened as her words sank in, her calm and measured tone cutting deeper than anger ever could. He met her gaze, knowing full well she’d see through any half-truths or deflections. His mind churned, torn between keeping his walls up and letting them crack just enough to give her what she wanted.
”I care about proving people wrong,” he began, his voice low and deliberate. ”I care about showing everyone who’s written me off that I’m not just some kid coasting on my family’s name. I care about making my mark, about building something that’s mine.”
He paused, running a hand over his face before letting it drop to his lap. His posture shifted, less defensive, more exposed, as if he was letting himself unravel just enough to be real. ”But it’s not just that. I care about the people who see something in me, even when I don’t see it in myself. The ones who push me to be better, not for them but for me.”
His gaze dropped for a moment, then flicked back up to meet hers, his voice quieter but no less certain. ”There’s… someone who makes me want to be better. Not because they expect it, but because I don’t want to let them down. They don’t take my bullshit, don’t let me hide behind excuses. And when I’m with them… I feel like I can be more than just ‘Ozzie Savell.’”
He leaned forward slightly, holding her gaze, his tone raw and unguarded. ”You’re right though, I can’t stand on my feet unless I want it for me. And I do. But part of what makes me want it is them. It’s… complicated, but they matter.”
He didn’t say her name. He didn’t need to. The way he spoke? Like it was as much a confession to himself as it was to her, said enough.
She sat in silence for a long moment, her eyes stayed locked on him the whole time, she didn’t really move or make any indication of what she was thinking as she sat there. Slowly, she leaned forwards again, lifting one hand from the desk and reaching out to place a hand on his. She wrapped her hand over the top of his, holding on to it.
”If that’s what you need, to bring her...” she corrected herself. ”Them here, to have them beside you so you stop adding the expectations of others onto your shoulders? Then we will accept them, I know Julian has had his doubts but he wants to see you succeed every bit as much as I do, Oz.”
She moved her hand from his, sitting up a little and clearing her throat, stripping the slight touch of emotion she had let through from it. When he bared his soul like this, it drew her in. She felt that pull to take care of him that she always had. And even more, stronger even than that pull?
She recognised the love in his eyes, she and Julian had wasted almost a decade denying one another for a hundred different reasons and that wasn’t a burden she wanted to see Ozzie carry as well.
”But in the mean time, Oz?” Her tone shifted back to the cool and measured one she used so often. Her gaze hardening again as she regarded him once more. ”You need to step up and lead this team, you Have to be the person we can trust to ensure something like last night never happens again… because if you can’t do that? I’ll find someone who can.”
Ozzie stayed still as her hand covered his, the rare show of warmth from her something he hadn’t expected. Her words, calm and measured but tinged with an unspoken understanding, hit him harder than the sharpest reprimand ever could. She got it more than anyone else ever had. And in that moment, he felt the weight of what she was offering: not just a second chance, but belief in him when he wasn’t sure he deserved it.
When she pulled back and the familiar coolness returned to her voice, Ozzie straightened in his chair, meeting her gaze with a renewed steadiness. Her last words weren’t a threat—they were a promise. He knew better than to test her on it.
”I get it,” he said quietly, his voice steady now. ”You’ve given me more chances than I probably deserve, and I won’t waste this one. I’ll step up. I’ll lead. Not just for you, or Julian, or anyone else but for me. I’ll make sure last night is the kind of mistake no one even thinks I’m capable of making again.”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before adding, softer now, ”And… I’ll figure out how to stop carrying this shit alone. I know I can’t do it all on my own. And maybe… maybe you’re right about what I need.”
His lips twitched into a faint smile, brief but genuine, before his expression settled back into something more serious. ”I won’t let you down again. That’s not a promise, it’s a fact.”
Ozzie rose to his feet, his posture solid and confident, though the gratitude in his eyes lingered as he looked at her. ”Thank you. For this. For still believing in me.” He paused, his smirk returning faintly as he added, ”Even if you don’t think I deserve it half the time.”
”That’s what family does.” Her tone was as cool and measured as ever, but there was a brief flicker of a smile on her own lips. Looking up at him from her seat behind the desk, she took stock of him, confident that this meeting had started a change she needed to see in him.
”We believe in each other even when aren’t sure you deserve it.” She echoed his words in her own way, before pulling the smile and warmth from her face, waving him away with a dramatic sigh. ”Go make sure none of them are actually dying, they’re feeling very dramatic after this morning.”
Ozzie’s lips twitched into a smirk at her words, the faintest glimmer of amusement sparking in his eyes. ”Family, huh? Guess that makes me the black sheep.” He lingered for a moment longer, the weight of the conversation still settling in his chest, but her dismissal and that brief flicker of a smile was enough to tell him they were done.
He stepped back, his confidence creeping back into his posture. ”I’ll check on them,” he said, his tone lighter now, though he couldn’t resist one last jab. ”Pretty sure they’ll live, but if not, I’ll make sure it’s a dramatic send-off worthy of Division.”
With that, he turned on his heel, his footsteps echoing faintly as he made his way to the door. He paused briefly before stepping out, glancing back over his shoulder, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. ”Thanks... For everything.”
And then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a quiet click, leaving the White Rabbit to her thoughts.