It's No Cakewalk

Considering that he has experienced the effects first-hand of the supposedly dreaded “cake curse”, Pierre was in a position where he could at least understand why Gwendolyn concocted this plan. Mind you, Pierre didn’t know the heiress well enough to even see the countless times she has had cake in her face, as shown in the Crème De La Crème segments. The only instance Pierre did see that happen was when she made the declaration that the Imperial Rose was to take on any challengers from the intergender wrestling brand. Admittedly, the French-Canadian didn’t pay much attention to it. He had seen two Friction members making the jump, perhaps enjoying the twilight of their careers, and he couldn’t care less about the spectacle. To him, they were just wrestlers. Though it does make it somewhat interesting when he gets the chance to grapple them to the ground. The only thing that caught his eye was when she had a gifted cake splattered on her face as if it was destined to be so from birth. That was funny. What also was funny is the fact he gets to teach that same woman in the ring. Really funny how life works. Of course, the Quebecoise hasn’t secured the opportunity yet, but he was confident that this will be a piece of cake, pun intended.

Especially as more details of said examination would be revealed to the man as Gwendolyn limbers up. Despite him eyeing up her attire as well as other things below, Pierre would pay attention as he also limbered up on the ground, testing the guards adorned on his legs. They provided enough protection without being heavy that it drags him down. His question was harmless enough that Gwendolyn didn’t mind answering, letting him in on the other detail that pertained to the countless treats scattered around the room and the ring. He chuckled at the point Gwen made about her butlers and maids’ allegiance skewed towards her favour. Of course, they would be; she’s their employer. Pierre would undoubtedly expect her to fire those that show support to anyone but her on the spot. Considering they would follow their orders to create those pastries in such a short amount of time, the Cannuk can see them give their undying loyalty to the one they serve. Then again, an audience may not be needed, especially with what the snooty socialite said after that.

If Pierre didn’t know any better and simply didn’t care, a quizzical look and ridicule would be the first thing that would come out. But after having the cake fall on him and Gwen somehow not understanding what truly happened, the French-Canadian wisely opted to keep such opinions to himself. If anything, this already wasn’t a formal work interview when he has to wrestle the employer herself. Having to use cakes and all sorts to attack with is probably the least weird thing in Gwendolyn. Not even that such a fancy, well-designed wrestling attire resembling the classic, patriotic tricolour would find it covered in frosty icing and all sorts like his suit. It’s a good thing he’s wearing white. “…So a food fight.” Pierre would respond in jest as he would stand up before the haughty heiress. Rolling his shoulders as both would be in range of letting their scents be picked up to the curious nose. Pierre’s picked up the exciting mix of fruits and florals that were completely rare and precious. Made with quality, crafted with skill. “Must say, you certainly stand out above any other employer I’ve ever know~.” His eyes quickly glanced at the ring that is next to them, so pristine and without blemish. “I’d almost feel bad to create such a mess. And to that attire…But I am encouraged to do so, so I won’t have any regrets.” Pierre shrugged his shoulders in a carefree way. “Not that those will be the only treats I’ll be enjoying when I win~.”

Irksome though it may be to continuously elucidate each every facet of her meticulously crafted and intricately planned machinations, Gwendolyn nevertheless further explained the reasoning behind tonight's unorthodox employment interview as well as polish up the specific details of her ingenious scheme until they were crystal clear. The smug socialite understanding how Pierre and his neanderthalic mental capacity may be in need of being mollycoddled and talked down to until the details were expressed on a base level of interpretation that even he could understand. Furthermore, seeing as how this was still indeed an opportunity to earn a chance to become employed by an dignitary of renowned prestige and flawless grace, feelings of weak-kneed fearfulness and hesitant apprehension were indeed going to become an inevitably. Leading to an assured insistence on clarifying details to put his quivering nerves at ease for the time being. Although upon learning the delectable truth of the matter, whose to say that those very same feelings of anxious jitteriness wouldn't merely become exasperated once it become clear that Pierre will soon become grindfully entangled with a Heavenly proportioned and most beauteous of heiress'~...

G.D.B.:

...who also saw fit to don newly crafted attire tailored specifically to perfectly fit her shapely figure. Gwendolyn deciding that if this was indeed to be a night of adventurous experimentation, than she must earnestly commit to the concept. And what better way could there be than trying out this fanciful number from her grappling wardrobe. Frilly feathers lined around her collar, slim-lined waist and in an angelic pattern upon her bosom. Knee-pads bearing her initials upon her kneecaps with no footwear to speak of otherwise. Gwendolyn forgoing the conventional wrestling boots in favor of going barefoot in the hopes that it would allow for better griping upon the pastry coated floor beneath them with her foot's tactile sensations underneath. And before you peons ask, the flowery artwork embroidered upon the side of her right thigh is not, in fact, a permanent tattoo. Twas merely a semi-permanent coloring the heiress has been thoughtfully considering etching into her as a flightful fancy of hers. Although whenever she'd become convinced in her resolve to undergo the procedure...the potential ramifications it could have upon herself eventually stymies her enthusiasm. In particular when considering the volcanic reaction of her dearest parents.

"...*sigh*...If you must deprive my masterful stratagem towards combating my affliction of any and all semblances of subtlety or nuance...than very well. Yes, it is a food fight." Gwendolyn poshly uttered with her golden-curled head turned to the side and eyes closed with a wafting backhand in Pierre's direction, begrudgingly allowing him to dumb down the sage brilliance of her plan if it will make the Quebecois content enough to finally have them move on already. Afterward placing her elbow upon her free hand while she daintily placed an index finger against her cheek, smirking deviously towards him. "Hmph, it certainly doesn't speak highly of your own thoughtful perception if the realization of mine own extraordinary uniqueness is only just now becoming apparent. Although your cocksure bravado seems well attuned if you believe yourself capable of conquering one of such regal renown, and if you intend to indulge in mine own elegantly sculpted delicacies that have nothing to with the pastries upon our feet. To the victor goes the delectable spoils, it seems~..." A graceful gait being taken towards Pierre with her hazel eyes never diverting from her foe's, that it until she was close enough to attempt to duck low for a sweeping kick intended to knock the Canuck off of his feet.

“If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, it is probably a duck.” He struggled as he said so.  Pierre is bright enough that he doesn’t need to be mollycoddled into having her machinations explained to a toddler level, but he sees no point in leaving things so unorthodox that it ignores what it truly is. The plan itself could be more nuanced than what Gwendolyn would be gracious to elaborate on, but as it is, it can be simplified to just a food fight. What with all the cakes and pastries placed around the room, not to mention the massive one Gwendolyn and Pierre are standing on. Furthermore, it was simply a comment made in jest. A light-hearted comment meant to ease whatever nervous energy was there. Or perhaps even the brightest socialite might not get something this simple. While Pierre would like to pass that interview with flying colours, the nerves were far from showing. Whatever ‘weak-kneed fearfulness and hesitant apprehension’ there was, Pierre was either good at hiding it or was so confident that he couldn’t feel it. Compared to most men in Tension, The French-Canadian was far from going to crumble at sight or even the touch of a woman. Let alone the haughty heiress like the one standing at the other side of this ring. In any case, he was raring to go, no need for quivering nerves. Just a few curiosities that he wanted to sort out. If anything, the one who should have the quivering nerves is Gwendolyn herself. The Quebecoise knows not of her ‘cake curse’, but one would expect Gwen to stay ten feet away from a cake rather than standing on top of it. Perhaps there were workarounds that her enigmatic and unorthodox mind has to go through to push through with this. Whatever mental gymnastics the snooty socialite was performing, Pierre cared not. What with the fabulous, frivolous woman standing there, ready to get some action and get this interview underway.

Although he did have one curiosity, that had to do with the artwork adorned on her right thigh. Pierre can’t say that he knows of her work back in Friction, but the man felt that tattoo was new. It looked fresh, didn’t have the same kind of fade that most inks get with time. Perhaps her time in a wrestling promotion has her becoming more open to things like a tattoo. Pierre figured she was much braver than him as someone who has parents that frown on this sort of thing. And she is a freakin’ heiress. The rest of the attire did get some notice, but it was the kind of thing that Pierre would expect from Gwendolyn. Apart from the shin and instep pads that are far from wrestling regulations, that is. While Pierre has never had one, he could admire how intricately well it looked. If she has money to purchase the finest scent money to buy, she could afford an outstanding artist to perform art on her skin. A question he’ll have to save for another time, Gwendolyn seemed as if she wanted to get the show underway rather than go about something so rebellious.

The Canuck stood shaking his arms, his fingers curling and stretching as he can’t wait to get his hands on her. He chuckled as Gwendolyn prattled on and on, the usual underestimation of his intelligence. Something he’s already used to and nothing new. Pierre replied with a nod before coming towards the heiress. Stepping away from his corner with careful steps, just like he would if he’s in a standard ring. Immediately, between that and Gwendolyn moving quickly towards him, Pierre had to remember that he is indeed wrestling on top of a giant cake. And the texture is much more different to get used to. So while the Canuck could see the sweeping kick that was coming his way, acting accordingly would not be smooth sailing. As demonstrated by Pierre shifting his weight backwards and lifting his leg to not get caught in the sweep. But by doing so, stepping on the cake brought a slight imbalance that had Pierre stumbling backwards and finding purchase. Not the best of starts, but it did beat being dumped on his ass on the first move. Not good when it comes to an actual interview.

Subtlety and nuance, while assuredly words within Gwendolyn's verbose vocabulary, were typically scarcely implemented whenever her divine whims and strategies were put into full execution. Anyone who took notice of her lavish locale, extravagant living quarters, and veritable museum quality artwork depicting her royal visage, could rightfully surmise that the heiress approaches all aspects of her life with the same grandiose flamboyance and ludicrous opulence that encompasses nigh all aspects of her refined life amongst the one percentage. Perhaps unknown to a select few, but Gwendolyn initially proposed to have herself be chauffeured to and fro the AFW stadium via her own personal helicopter. A typical mode of transportation which she thought to be a rather routine request considering the frequency with which she'd been riding within them and ease with which air travel was in regards to saving hours of traveling time. An idea regrettably nixed when the AFW executives hesitantly informed Gwendolyn of certain air traffic regulations within city limits and furthermore, the arena's absurd lack of a helipad.

By those metrics, the posh aristocrat's actions this day seemed to be most in character for one such as her. And decisions which Pierre would inevitably become most accustomed to should he surpass this pastry procured screening process. Gwendolyn's daily staff having by now become grizzled veterans when it come to their employer's ludicrous expenditures and spur of the moment flights of fancy. Although she surely hoped that Pierre appreciated the lengths to which her, and by her she means those earlier fatigued employees, went to in order to accommodate tonight's festivities and will continue to do so once the gigantic headache known as the cleaning process begins. And which will assuredly last well into the night and perhaps the next morning. Gwendolyn considering having Pierre assist her staff as his first task under her employ, but all in due time. For now, her on the job training would commence via a sweeping leg intended to trip up the strapping Quebecoise and intentions to have him be the first one of the night to become well acquainted with the French Vanilla flavored frosting flooring below.

"...*giggle*...Points for being quick on your feet. A pity that same swiftness appears not to correlate to one's wits, as well." Gwendolyn quipped from being unable to swipe the legs out from under Pierre, for now crouched low with one leg extended to her side after performing the wide-arching strike. Layers of cake being thwacked into the air off of her foot to accentuate her rather stylish pose before rising back up with a brimming smirk, still supremely confident in her chances tonight. Even moreso once she witnessed the handsome French-Canadian still unbalanced by the sneak attack. A sign to continue her advancing offense if ever she saw one...except that upon taking her first sprinting step, the sugared slop below skidded beneath the socialite and immediately unbalanced her. Flailing with whirlwinding arms and widened iris', Gwendolyn inelegantly floundered forward with the cadence in her yelping voice rising several octaves the more she continued to lose control. Currently on track for a slipping, sliding and propelled crash course with Pierre!!!

Among the vast number of arts that have been introduced into this world, grappling was considered the Ying to striking’s Yang. Pierre couldn’t tell why he was drawn to wrestling and judo, where the bulk of his experience was placed. His parents wanted to find ways to defend himself, but he wasn’t feeling up for getting punched in the face repeatedly and got to protect the good looks after all. This is where the art of grappling came into play, a fundamental skill set not only to defend but to take down an opponent effectively. Many detractors insist that such styles aren’t suitable for self-defence. But in his opinion, those skills have helped him o survive real-life situations, standing up and on the ground. Getting to clinch and avoid taking damage from strikes, especially against bigger opponents. It’s adequate to take the fight to the floor and move to a more dominant position; there was a lot to like in Pierre’s mind. It has saved him a couple of times when he has to manoeuvre around more significant threats on the tatami and, in other cases, bars and nightclubs. Considering his height, this happens quite often than he’d like. Pierre insists there isn’t a Napoleon complex, but the evidence quickly stacks against him. Admittedly, his more realistic style in the ring contrasts his sometimes extravagant lifestyle.

Yet despite this, Pierre found his tastes a bit more tame compared to Gwendolyn’s. Subtlety and nuance, maybe two words she’d use, but another obvious word would be extravagant. With the amount of money Gwendolyn has, the ‘larger than life personality is a lot more justified. Much as she’d want to be portrayed as someone with strict standards and having an upstanding calibre, the AFW seemed to have made her more open to all kinds of things. To think the move to Tension was just to start with. Not that this has put off the Quebecoise. At least if he gets the job, Pierre’s life would continuously have that spice that makes his days much more interesting. Then again, it could be a case of ‘being careful what you wish for’. Having the entire interview being a spar in a cake may as well be intriguing, but there’s always something that takes it too far. The French-Canadian opted not to overthink about that but rather keeping his footing. Pierre ended up spreading his base more in an attempt to keep himself stable. The French Vanilla-flavoured frosting below his feet teaching him that wrestling like this is unlike a standard ring with the coarse canvas. At that point, he wondered how those who wrestle in mud or oil could keep their balance so well. Because it isn’t as easy as they make it out to be. Effectively mirroring Gwen for a moment with his crouch, the snooty socialite commended his reactions. “A pity I was expecting much more from your opening salvo than just a sweep,” Pierre replied with a quip of his own. Despite not quite stable, his bravado kept the image that he was ready for whatever Gwendolyn throws at him. Even if, in truth, Pierre was far from it. His body still tensed soon as the haughty heiress took the first step, but even that small action gave birth to something more disastrous.

At least for the Friction Export this time round. Now it was Gwendolyn’s turn to have the frosting take a bite from her footing as she’d suddenly become unbalanced. Which in normal circumstances, Pierre would gladly take advantage of his advancement. But his instability rendered him unable to do so, and while incapable of coming up with his defence, looked straight at Gwendolyn wide-eyed as she came barreling towards the Quebecoise. “Woahwoahwoahwoah…!!” Sent on a crash course, Pierre had to be there to catch the damsel in slippery distress in his arms, feeling her form collide into his own. Absorbing the impact, Pierre did have his judo instincts kick in; his body intrinsically moved on auto-pilot. What it wants to do was to use the momentum to throw Gwendolyn onto her back into the cake-filled floor with a Hane Goshi...a hip toss, if you will. But what happened is that, compounded with his instability issues, has Pierre twirling around the ring, almost maladroitly waltzing with Gwendolyn in tow!

Albeit a life choice presented to Gwendolyn more out of sheer necessity than any other reason, mastering some manner of self defense was quest embarked upon by Gwendolyn with just as much competitive zeal and honed diligence as all other challenges in her life. Being the heir apparent to a substantial fortune that eclipsed the net worth of certain modestly sized countries meant having a perpetual target forever emboldened upon her back by would be kidnappers and international terrorists. No security system being ultimately foolproof with the loyalties of all but the most devoted and trustworthy of employees being perpetually put into question since a dollar amount can out leverage nigh anyone's morality. Twas but one unpleasant downside accompanying the colossal crown affixed upon her head, but where one may buckle beneath such monumental anxieties, the heiress learned to thrive, adapt, and become supremely adept in overcoming any physical limitations once diplomacy had run it's course and violence, uncouth though may it be for a dignified lady of her prestige, became the only viable solution. In essence by making use of what she'd already been sculpting early on in her life.

The exquisite flexibility, precision accuracy and masterful momentum manipulation cultivated in her ballet tutelage having lent itself marvelously towards proper self-defense courses. To the point where even earlier on, Gwendolyn was capable of judo-flipping men that were easily twice her size off of their feet and out of their socks. To say nothing of her capability towards kayo-ing adversary's with one well-placed strike of a roundhouse kick thwacked against the side of their jaw. The heiress having eventually withdrawn from that level of violence due to the substantial lack of willing sparring partners, with her intention being to do the same against the potential future employee before her. Some consideration taken on Pierre's part due to the fact that he was still to be properly broken in yet as a proper lackey should be, and because she felt it would be such a deplorable waste of his handsome features should them become besmirched by bruises, blackeyes and whatnot. Except that even with such sublime expertise in physical altercations and the best of intentions, Gwendolyn did not perhaps account for how truly and insufferably slippery this blasted flooring ended up becoming. Being barefoot not helping in the slightest, it regrettably turned out.

"WhooaHoaHoa!!!" Gwendolyn elegantly colliding within Pierre's receiving arms, the unlikely duo continuing onward in a twirling tailspin that had cake slather being spattered about wherever they rotated. In a bizarre coincidence, for all of the uncoordinated slippage that initiated it all, a well choreographed duet started taking place except with no resplendent music being played as the elegant backdrop to their graceful waltz through the frosting flavored garden. Gwendolyn clasping one of her hands with her other situated on his shoulder, weighed intently against him to a mushed bloom of her heavenly breasts against his pectorals but unaware of any such suggestive positioning until their pivoting rotations came to an abrupt end with the posh aristocrat backing Pierre against the ring ropes behind him. Gwen somewhat suffering from a severe dizzy spell that refused to be abated until her swirled eyes straightened out and she found herself in an advantageous position she could capitalize to make even moreso. Nimbly bucking backward with a tightened grasp upon her sparring partner's collar, the heiress attempted to tuck and roll themselves back towards the ring. The soles of her boots positioned against his abdomen before she extended her legs in mid-roll to flip the Canuck overhead with Gwen following along ending with her straddling the fallen Quebecoise.

At no point did the Quebecoise imagine being placed in a position where something this zany, bizarre and ludicrous as “dancing around a massive cake”. Dancing, in general, isn’t the problem Pierre had, even he knew the importance of learning a few moves for high society parties. The parties in nightclubs and, heck, the frat parties at dorms were some of the most fun he’s ever had. The uptight environment of it all had been too much for Pierre, however, finding it all to be stuffy and restrictive in most cases. He preferred to let loose and get a little crazy, being that young, dumb and free guy that just wanted to have fun with some guys (and girls, obviously). His friends would joke that Pierre, when drunk, was more charitable than when he’s sober. Being born to a family with a substantial fortune meant that he blew his money on drinks, VIP sections, more drinks, and just putting most of the bill on his tab. Of course, his father wasn’t a fan of having to pay that tab for Pierre but tolerated it enough so long as the national team would accept Pierre. Needless to say, after that debacle in France, the partying slowed down to a halt once the endless well of money proved not to be so endless. Regardless, the French-Canadian always had those memories of those wild nights...at least, what he could manage to remember since he was always black-out drunk during them. His friends got a free night and yet never lacking in the craziness. Some stories won’t be exposed to anyone, though, especially to his would-be employer. He doubted Gwendolyn had that reckless side to her when she was younger.

However, there was still that possibility, low as it may seem. It wouldn’t be so far fetched to think that, what with the snooty socialite’s zany plans of wrestling on top of a giant cake. Gwen’s prim and proper yet eccentric personality showed that it is wise to expect the unexpected, never to rule out things that the heiress wouldn’t be capable of. Not many who are the beneficiary, evident with a vast amount of wealth that overshadowed the total assets of certain unobtrusively estimated nations, end up becoming championship-calibre wrestlers. Let alone be involved in anything that requires a substantial amount of physical effort. Pierre didn’t get to question Gwendolyn’s intentions or reason to lace up the boots, but he opted to refrain from asking. From the brief amount of time he’s met her, she wouldn’t be a fan of answering such remedial questions that Gwendolyn no doubt already answered. More research for the French-Canadian.

Right now, Pierre had to do his preliminary appraisal of his own. There is a lot of information to gather within the first few moments of battle. And while this damned flooring wasn’t helping to make an accurate result, Pierre did get something out of it. One, in particular, was that Gwendolyn was not easy to take down for all the slipping and sliding they were doing. While Gwendolyn was blissfully unaware of what’s happening, which seemed to be a recurring trend he noticed, Pierre felt those mounds of hers pressing upon his chiselled pectorals. Much of Gwendolyn’s weight and momentum was pushed onto him, leaving the Quebecoise to carry it all while spinning around aimlessly. “This isn’t what I signed up fo-whooahooaahoooahh!!” Quite right, Pierre didn’t expect to be performing the waltz on top of some frosted icing. Certainly wasn’t among the list of things in the job description, but Pierre wouldn’t put it past Gwendolyn to add ‘dance partner’ to the requirements. It seems like a given. Eventually, the unlikely pair’s romantic tango would be put to a halt once Pierre’s back smacked onto the turnbuckle, which reminded Pierre that, yes, they were still in a wrestling ring. It was hard to remember what with all the cake layered on the canvas. Once the spinning stopped, Pierre closed his eyes in an attempt to not think of the inertia, his body still feeling the momentum continuing. He chuckled to himself, feeling somewhat proud that he didn’t step upon Gwendolyn’s toes during that foxtrot. Which could be misconstrued as Pierre enjoying Gwendolyn’s body pressed upon him. He was feeling the surprisingly taut musculature on his, hidden by the meticulously designed one-piece. Such nonexistent thoughts would be abruptly disturbed as Pierre felt his body moving forwards instead, the hardened grip on his collar and a cake-covered foot placed on his firm abdomen. Before Pierre could open his eyes, he found himself mid-flip, his back landing hard onto the cake itself, only opening once Gwendolyn landed on top of the Quebecoise, straddling him. He wasn’t sure if Gwen was being cute with that tomo-nage, knowing of his Judo background, but she managed to throw the man over, landing near the middle of the ring.

Those privileged few who find themselves bestowed the exquisite of honor of toiling away underneath the Primol banner inevitably find themselves tasked with duties that may not have necessarily been within the job description upon application. Had Pierre taken the time to have a prolonged discourse with the limo driver who ferried the Canuck to Gwendolyn's estate, he may have been informed about the driver learning about routine car bomb inspection techniques from this occupation, along with ensuring a chilled bottle of Gwendolyn's favorite vintage champagne was always present and prepared for the heiress' imbibing pleasure whenever she was being sallied to and fro business meetings and clandestine discourses within. Or the frilly dressed maid that Gwendolyn had caught Pierre gallivanting around with in the hallway earlier in the night. Had he saw fit to be a chivalrous gentleman willing to converse with her and not a philandering womanizer with roaming hands, he might have learned that maids were tasked with becoming acquainted with proper care and treatment of a variety of animals, such as thorough bred horses for pollo matches...plus tigers, bulls, elephants. Pierre would need to become a proper Primol employee before learning the story behind those last three.

Therefore, in retrospect, a slight tussle within a pastry plastered imprisonment could scarcely be considered one of the more unconventional tasks he may find himself saddled with one day. Although even Gwendolyn was beginning to find some fault in her plannings once all of her honed balancing techniques availed her not as she comically careened into the Quebecois from the cascading slippage underfoot. Neither one capable of easing down their accelerated velocity and instead smoothly glided about the ring in chaotic harmony, an unplanned yet inexplicably well-choreographed ballroom duet taking place as the heiress' right hand found it's way into Pierre's left. Extended to the side as twirls were spun and Gwendolyn felt what she surmised was her dancing partner's other hand situated against the small of her back...and for his sake, not one inch lower. The utter absurdity of it all instead taking a well placed backseat to her own immediate safety as the blueblood intently leaned into the sturdiest foundation amidst the disorienting spin cycle. Which just so happened to be the sculpted physique of the judo practitioner until his broad back slammed up against the turnbuckle behind him. Once her dizzy spell had abated, Gwendolyn peeped one eye open at a time to confirm their inaction, but than realized the embarrassing situation they had slipped and slided into.

The mental imagery of what had just transpired giving the spoiled socialite reason enough to blush adorably with an irritated pout, but have the foresight to turn her head to the side in an attempt to stealthily conceal that accursed complexion. The romantic implications of Pierre embracing her protectively as they wafted along their dance floor with feathered lightweight, the maidenly princess seeking the secure protection within the arms of her gallant knight~...were all swiftly undone by the lunk-headed jock laughing moronically to himself about something Gwendolyn couldn't even fathom. The heiress gawking up at him in miffed vexation before proceeding to demonstrate the fruits of some of her training beforehand in the impeccably implemented judo flip. Extending her leg to have him flip overhead to a cake splattering plummet before nimbly rolling along as well to take her imperial seat atop his breadbasket, legs bent at his sides as she crossed her arms and cast a judgmental eye downward. "Hmph...Were I of suspicious ilk, I may have raised some suspicions contesting that you intentionally planned for that impromptu duet of ours. Still...*giggle*...A bold stratagem, I daresay~...Although I've my own fair share of surprises as well." Gwen uttered with wry smile before bend her leg inward so as to situate her shin against Pierre's neck before cupping the back of his head for yet another BJJ themed surprise maneuver.

Most times, there will be things that technically weren’t in the job description when they apply. As someone who likes to keep things simple and uncomplicated, Pierre only expected the base level of what a trainer is asked for. Despite his health in the mental side of things not being up to par, especially with everything going on, the Quebecoise still kept his physical body in top shape. Exercise, for the most part, was the only thing keeping him grounded. Even though it feels he’s hanging on by a fingernail at times. The French-Canadian never thought of being a personal trainer. While he could potentially be a good fit, it was never something he thought was his calling. There were other things he could aspire to. Loftier goals to obtain…only for such plans to be dashed before he could enter the big stage. Despite this, Pierre worked with personal trainers before, the type that could get actual results if you have the cash for it. In a way, this would be pretty similar to what his PT would do. If only Antonio could see the man who previously said, “I’m too good to be a personal trainer.” Fate can be pretty humorous, indeed. So when he applied, he expected something similar to his experience with Antonio. Brought in by the Primol group as an expert in fitness training, working with Gwen to reach her goals in what she wants to achieve. For the most part, this would be easy, considering the canvas he’d be working on. Which was mostly done, but he just needed to add more depth and color to the piece. The French-Canadian was well aware of her extensive ballet experience, which means most things would be easier to pick up. Pretty simple things, which would make things a breeze to go through.

Considering the countless times he’s been surprised so far, this definitely was far from simple. Waltzing around the ring filled with cake was certainly not in the job description, and yet here he was in this spin cycle that left both of them dizzy. Gwendolyn was someone full of surprises, an understatement, of course, but that left the man wondering what to expect next. At least he didn’t step on her toes. This means that his dreams of being a dancer are still alive; faint chances of that happening, however. The absurdity of it all showed that if he was to be successful in the role of trainer, it’s to expect the unexpected. That lesson still hasn’t been drilled into his mind yet, and as the Snooty Socialite snapped out of the tipsy state, Pierre found himself being thrown over. While Pierre knows the wrestling variation of this move, known as a monkey flip, he also knew the other name as a seasoned judoka: Tomoe Nage.

That was…unexpected. In the Quebecoise’s field, it was the type of throw that was really good for Hando no Kuzushi (otherwise known as “unbalancing by reaction”). Where you push the opponent and then pull and simultaneously slip with your body deep under the uke and throw when they push back. Pierre knew of the most common mistake: only pulling, sticking your butt out, falling to the ground from a distance, and only focusing on foot placement. That and with it being a sutemi waza, his coach discouraged Pierre from using it. Instead of using sacrifice throws as a counter or a last-ditch effort before the clock runs out, instead of using it as an oversized throw for ippon. Unless you score ippon, the main problem is that this leaves you in a terribly compromised position as they scramble in newaza, potentially losing the match. So going with a throw that has a low percentage chance of winning the match and failing results in presenting your opponent with an opportunity to finish you from a hold down or submission. It’s a beautiful throw, yet risky to be used other than sparingly or just going for broke. Pierre has no idea how Gwendolyn knew about this, but she performed it pretty well, even for his standards. Instead of letting him fly over her, the haughty heiress actually rolled with him, which denotes a skill he wasn’t aware of. While Gwendolyn has had an extensive career, he wasn’t aware that she trained in any martial arts. Shown how he was left blinking, staring at Gwen in genuine surprise after landing on the cake with a plop. At the very least, this was better than concrete or marble. “Heh, I was going to throw that suspicion on you. More your stratagem than mine….” Pierre wouldn’t put it past her, considering her dance background and her zany ideas coming to life so far. That and constantly misinterpreting his actions. But as Gwendolyn muttered the last part of having her own fair share of surprises, Pierre really saw it to believe as she moved forward, keeping her weight pressing down on him as he grabbed his buzzcut head. All while she maneuvered one flexible leg in front of his neck before pulling him upwards. Her shin slid between them, like holding a knife against his throat as it dug deep, choking off his airways. “Ack! P-putain d’enfer!” That is all Pierre could mutter out as he felt the suffocating pain kicking in. His usual habit of switching to his mother tongue kicked in as he gripped on the leg, gritting his teeth hard. Pierre's hips already tried to thrust up, unconsciously working to bridge her off...but trying to get his feet planted would have worked better if the cake wasn't so slippery. Added with the fact Gwen was already high up on his body made struggling out of this a tall order.

Confessions were perhaps in order after witnessing Gwendolyn's unexpectedly adept knowledge of certain BJJ techniques applied on the Quebecois grappler, unwantingly turned fitness trainer. Monsieur Vulliard would be woefully mistaken in believing himself to be the heiress' first choice when it comes to being granted the esteemed honor of aiding Gwendolyn in her plight towards mastering her combative prowess and maintaining her sublime physical perfection. Calls were firstly made to various grappling specialists the world over whom she spared no expense in securing their traveling accommodations, the majority of which eagerly accepted her invitation and were already packing their bags once verifying the number of zeroes in their paycheck was indeed not a mistake by her companies finance department. Of course these combative professionals had varying levels of expertise in their respective fields, one of whom for example attempting to teach the affluent aristocrat how to swiftly disarm and incapacitate any and all assailants brandishing weapons of all lethal nature. Another of whom, being BJJ practitioners of various backgrounds, fighting styles, and belt colors. However issues arose soon afterward once Gwendolyn found herself being overtly mollycoddled by those too spineless to risk incurring any legalistic repercussions from injuring such a wealthy client. An outcome that despite Gwen's assurance of its preposterousness, inhibited their grappling mindset and irritated the heiress' own once she started trouncing them with ease.

However, be that as it may the heiress nevertheless attained decent familiarity of certain judo flips and submission holds from these professionals that came quite naturally to her considering the wrestling aptitude she'd long since honed, including the Tomoe Nage or "Circle Throw". Perhaps derived from the full rotation that her opponent is typically sent into whilst in mid-air, but assuredly a maneuver that Gwendolyn favored considering her petite size and nimble frame was undoubtedly ill-suited to tests of strength and its musclebound ilk. Therefore agile unbalancing were her graceful forte. One that was strengthened from having further mastered this monkey flip technique thanks to those aforementioned BJJ trainers whom at the very least accomplished this aspect of their job before being swiftly and soundly dismissed from their positions. Gwendolyn smugly patting herself on the back from still managing to execute the maneuver amidst the squishy and frosting caked slippage at their respective feet, culminating with Pierre making an outline of himself in the pastry filled canvas and the prideful noblewoman mounted atop him. An outcome which seemed far more favorable in Gwen's hazel tinted eyes as she commented on her suspicions about Pierre's supposed puppeteering of their impromptu waltz. For now she considered the proverbial jury to still be out on that speculation, and opted to capitalize on her good fortune by demonstrating her BJJ training even further and at poor Pierre's unfortunate expense.

"Now, Now. I'll abide no profanity amongst my perspective employees, even if it just so happens to be gasped and gagged in between wheezing breaths~...Although perhaps this is as apropos a time as any to divulge that submitting to me and admitting I've bested you will not negatively impact your chances of acquiring this position." Gwendolyn's familiarity with the French language allowing her to recognize Pierre's salty lingo as she elegantly admonished the frazzled Quebecois for swearing up a storm in her dignified presence. The shin pads she was adorned with were thankfully allowing some alleviation from the constriction upon Pierre's windpipe, but the stifling pressure was nevertheless on in yet another BJJ technique. One that the heiress may have quipped was quite literally taking his breath away, but less so from the blatant choke and moreso from having naught but her supple figure and heavenly cadence to gaze his weary eyes upon. The snobbish socialite centering her positioning as best she could amidst the frosted flooring and wriggling herself to attempt to remain mounted throughout all of her prospective sparring partner's thrashing about. Tenderly cradling the back of his buzzcut head with a serene smile counterbalancing his stressful predicament. She was supremely confident in her masterful control over the Quebecois jock and was beginning to hunch herself over and soothingly cradle his head closer to her until his wheezing breaths were wafted upon her slim-lined abdomen.