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As far as knocks went, this one wasn't your standard neutral-feeling rap-rap-rap per se. Jimmy and Jey just defended successfully. Nobody'd been around to see the mighty sigh of relief Roman let out, and he would have had it no other way.
The New Day were good, Kofi and Xavier were good, and Roman hadn't been underestimating them by any means. He knew his cousins hadn't been either; they especially weren't dumb enough to underestimate opponents they'd fought so many times before with wildly varying results.
They were good, yes, but they weren't of The Bloodline.
Another night with little incident in the can.
Or so he thought.
The knock arrived unannounced. He wasn't told that anyone would be dropping in. Pearce told him before his cousins' match started that his opponent for Royal Rumble had been picked, but whoever that opponent was, he couldn't have possibly thought that Roman wanted to see anyone—excluding only the tight knit group he associated with—right then.
Jimmy and Jey were still in the ring, and even if they weren't, they didn't need to knock. His future opponents never stopped by his locker room; never made it past the door. He didn't need anyone he didn't completely trust intruding on his thinking, but his curiosity got the better of him.
"Come in."
All engagement left him as soon as the referee called the tag team title match and declared his blood the winners; it ramped back up again alarmingly fast at this. He didn't care before, no, but...
"Romaaaaan."
Seth. Okay.
Roman smiled. Every inch of him relaxed, frigid mental preparation waved away like the useless thing it was.
Seth hadn't been on his mind, even though his presence here made instant sense. Even if Roman already had an opponent for the Rumble, Seth's presence still would have made sense to him. His presence always made sense. It didn't matter the state or the form he showed up in.
"Wasn't expecting you."
"Oooh," ribbed Seth, waltzing straight in with his long white coat with the black fur trim swishing around his legs. All it was missing was the Dalmatian spots. (A played-out joke by now, but accurate.) "How shortsighted of you."
A moment of no talking and much doubtlessly expensive fabric swishing passed where he wandered out of Roman's line of sight and the latter craned his neck to see him without getting up, smile disappearing and being replaced by a quizzically scrunched expression.
"This ain't even your brand anymore, man," he pointed out, and maybe it wasn't the best thing to say after not seeing his brother in so long. Seth was many things, impulsive being one of them. He wasn't airheaded. In fact, there was arguably too much going on up in that head of his.
He had an extremely short temper, too, but only if you caught him at a bad time.
Had Roman betted on Seth getting angry at him for saying it, though, he would have lost money. A single-hum chuckle rang through the room.
Roman's eyes caught on the wide sleeve cuff of Seth's coat as the younger man emoted with his hands, drifting back into the Tribal Chief's peripheral vision with a smile in his nasally voice.
"Are you trying to tell me I don't belong here?" he asked, no longer sidling and instead angling himself so he looked straight on and down at the champion. The movement, even if minimal, caused a subtle downdraft of his cologne to fly up the nose of the man sitting down.
Reigns tilted his head back, entertained a fleeting, clear moment of eye contact, and then dipped his head. His eyes crossed paths with the floor as he gave the posed question some thought.
"No," he answered at his own moseying pace. "No, I never would." He stood from his chair and crossed his arms slowly, clenched fists hidden in his inner arms. Nice to have a stretch. "I'll say I belong here more, but," he dug back, a cheeky smile falling into place.
Seth mirrored it. He held the older's gaze a moment longer before averting his, hitting his elbow into Roman's forearm as his smile split into a full-on grin.
"I'm like a freakin' chameleon, Roman. Adaptable."
Roman had a look. He took a very mindful step back and sized him up, nodding heavily once he was through.
"Yeah, that's true."
For an outfit Seth was wearing, this one was surprisingly tame, actually. It didn't hold a candle to the wacky, eccentric patterns and bright colors he'd been wearing lately—not unheard of in this business, mind. For a guy like Seth... sure. All right.
It wasn't Roman's style, of course.
Seth ignored the jape and drew himself up higher.
"I belong wherever I say I do," he proudly proclaimed. With nothing to counter that with, Roman resigned himself to staring some more.
Staring transitioned into physically inspecting, unforcefully grabbing at half of the opened coat and pulling it aside, running his clamped fingers down the fluffy trim. Spacious as the coat was, Seth didn't even notice he was doing it until he turned his head to look at him again.
When he did notice, he shifted his weight antsily, an indignant, miffed noise leaving him. He made no move to stop it happening.
"Don't be jealous," he said, bored brown eyes on the roll. "I'll show you where I buy them, all right?"
Roman let go of the trim as if he'd been burned by it, rumbling laughter overtaking him; knocking him back a good foot. Seth bridged the newly formed gap between them, leaning in, practically bowing.
Roman shook his head, waved his hand once and only one way, collecting himself quickly.
"Nah, nah, I'm good." He motioned widely to the whole getup, spurring an unsure flinch from Rollins. "It's unique; don't share with anybody. Don't even share with me."
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. That's what I like to hear." Seth maintained the close proximity. His eyes darted down and moved steadily, albeit swiftly, from left to right. They lit up once they reached the end of their journey.
"Ohh, so that's what I'm doing wrong." His right hand flew in all of a sudden, too fast to track, and poked eagerly at Roman's chest. Left hand side, closer to the shoulder seam than to his heart. It occurred to Roman that he was looking at the graphic on his Needle Mover t-shirt. "Here I was settling for Main Eventer this whole time."
Roman bit down on his tongue, wanting—like you wouldn't believe—to keep the flow of conversation going... and feeling the impending point of this visit coming to light any second now all the more, knowing one of them was going to have to say something sooner or later.
He was the Universal Champion. It was Seth's job to fully commit to being Pearce's choice, but he hadn't yet. Maybe there was a perfectly benign explanation for that. Roman couldn't say he minded if it meant the role of the guy who was actively choosing to stay on top of things fell to him.
He wanted to do it. It needed to be him.
"Seth?" he initiated.
"Yeeees?" Seth drew the word out razzingly, stepping around Roman. He was fully behind him now. Roman turned yet again, unhurried, and was admittedly surprised when his leisurely pace allowed Seth the time to sit down, and on the very same chair Roman just got up out of.
His seat being stolen threw Roman off his stride momentarily, looking down at his old friend—one bigger shock away from being slack-jawed.
"You here for the reason I think, or what?" he asked. Seth's hands stiffly braced on the armrests he sat between, fingers audibly drumming. He thought better about getting comfortable and stood up again.
"Yeah, Big Man." His broad smile diminished, but it didn't leave his face altogether. "If you'll have me."
"If?" Roman's eyes flew open a little wider in reaction to that. "Only if? I can say no?"
"Well, wha- what- whaddayou think I'd say?" stuttered Seth, a reinstated look of huffiness on him as he rushed to defend himself. "You'll be contractually obligated anyway, but even if you weren't, I'd feel comfortable saying that just because I know you wouldn't say..."
He tossed up his hands, haughtily resentful of the soft laugh Roman gave.
On the same page, then.
"I'm just teasing you."
Rollins didn't have it in him to glare. His smile came back and got the teensiest bit bigger, parted by a fond, "Yeah."
Reigns considered him for a moment, observing without saying a word, before he moved on over to the four cubbies against the wall. He pulled the fastened Universal Championship out, looking it over with a smile.
Acceptance on his mind as he turned back around to face Rollins and lifted the belt low in referral.
"You want this title?"
"Yes, uh-huh. That is the title I want," Seth affirmed.
"You'd need a miracle to get it off me." Roman slipped an arm through, wearing it on his shoulder where it belonged. He took indulgent pride in the bothered little wrinkle it put in Seth's face; higher up on his nose, between his eyes.
"Probably not."
"Yeah," grunted Roman, shrugging the belt ever closer to him. "I'll be the judge of that, huh?"
"I believe I can beat you for it," Seth claimed. His conviction did the very opposite of fade. "I haven't had any trouble beating you in the past, you know?" he added on. Said statement froze Roman up.
A glare, ambivalent but still very real, endeavored to pull his brows down. An even smaller frown nagged at his mouth as Seth moved in closer. The confident smugness about Rollins was gone now, and replaced by a wholly serious intensity.
"I specialized in it, as I recall." He clasped his hands together, head cocked just slightly to the right. Roman swallowed. The clammy dread that settled on his spine—the same one he was all too well acquainted with—seemed to inch upward; an unwelcome, boggy weight pressing in between his shoulder blades. Unpleasantly warm, agitating and frustrating. Slowing.
"Okay," he coolly said, even though it wasn't okay. He refused to step aside or step back. It was Seth who eventually did. He plodded a small ways away.
"It's also... totally fine as is... buuut," the Architect carried on, some liveliness returning to his voice, "I liked it better when it was red."
Reigns gave the blue leather strap wound around his arm a thoughtful side eye, taken out of his reverie of evening a scale.
"First thing I'm gonna do is change it back," Seth let him know; a mischievous, unconventionally effective insistence.
Unfortunately for Seth, his cockiness was rather more infectious than infuriating.
"Hoh, really now." Roman's smirk returned. The uncalm wave riding up his back split in two, subsided, and though he could still feel it, he could manage it once again. Just like he always had. "You know, most people are content just changing the name plates."
"I like your name. I just don't like the color."
Seth's hands unclasped and fell to hang limply at his sides when Roman asked,
"So you'll keep the name plates on?"
"I will... give them back to you."
"You don't want my name plates? Are you sure?"
"Not everything's about you, man." Seth scanned the floor as he said it. He was already turned away completely as it was, more facing the exit than facing Roman.
Roman held his hands out low, palms facing forward, allowing the title to slip off his shoulder and down his arm; it came to a sudden stop and swung loosely off his wrist.
"Suuure everything is." His big smile grew as Rollins whipped around. Boy had more of a talent for holding himself together.
"You're getting them back and that's final!"
Roman backed off the matter with a long-suffering sigh. He took one step and leaned over the rest of the way, placing the championship down on the table next to the lamp.
"I don't want my name plates on a red Universal Championship anyway."
"Ummm, I don't want your name on anything that I own??" Seth spared him one last glance on his way out the door, scorned glare on full display.
He left it ajar—Roman thought at first just to spite him, but when he stepped a toe over the threshold himself and stuck his head out, he noticed his cousins were standing just outside. Winded still, but more refreshed. Both looking at him. Jey, solemn. Jimmy... more inquisitive. He continued to hold eye contact with Roman even after Jey glanced away to watch Seth's retreating form down the hall.
They hadn't eavesdropped. They wouldn't have. Roman was sure they heard enough to know what was happening, though.
In silence, the three packed up their things and made to leave the building. The weight on Roman's spine stayed eased off for the most part, but it was still there. He knew it wouldn't be going anywhere for the next three weeks.
I haven't had any trouble beating you in the past .
An observation that would remain a talking point until he rectified the issue, Roman knew full well.
Beat Seth, make up for his past shortcomings, and keep the Universal Championship blue.