She warms up to you

Layla hangs onto your arm as you 2 walk back into the arena. It's mostly emptied by now, with just a few of the event workers left behind to clean up and pack up the video equipment. The fighting ring is still there. As you pass a trash can, you chuck the autographed poster in it. Layla looks surprised.

"Why did you do that? At least sell it on eBay or something," she remarks.

You shrug. "I'm really not much of a MMA fan. Or, of that loser."

Layla giggles and nods. "Well, you don't know-"

"I don't know what?" you ask.

Layla looks like she wants to say something, but she looks around and while nobody is paying attention to you 2, there are a few people around who might be able to hear your conversation. Instead, Layla leads you to the ringside and urges you to pull out your phone, and you snap a selfie with her with your arm around her slim waist. You keep your hand on Layla's waist after you put your phone away and she doesn't move it, as you 2 walk towards the exit. On the way out, you enter a empty hallway and Layla stops and looks up at you. You wait for her to speak.

"I hate this business," she says.

"Why? You seem pretty good at it."

"I- Yes, I enjoy doing what I do, and I love being on the telly, but... there's much more that happens behind the scenes that people don't know about," Layla says, looking contemplative. She leans into you with a sideways hug, resting the back of her head against your shoulder.

"Is it... is this something to do with why you were in the locker room?" you ask, knowing the answer.

"...yeah. The fights, they're fixed."

"Wow, so it's just like professional wresting?"

"Well, sort of. Except it looks much more real. I mean, the fighters really get hit, but who wins or loses is usually decides before they even step into the ring, depending on the sponsors and organizers. And because I'm bound by contract to work for them... There are things they make me do."

"Such as?"

Layla pauses, and her eyes are watery. You would stop her from saying anymore and change the subject, but you want her to feel comfortable enough to open up to you.

"They... bribe the fighters under the table, using me as the middleperson. And when the fighters say the money is not enough... they literally whore me out."

"They make you fuck the fighters?" you ask in mock disbelief.

Layla nods as a tear drips down her left cheek, and you quickly wipe it away from your free hand. "You could quit. No, you should quit," you say.

"I can't... I... I don't want to talk about- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to burden you with this. I mean, we only just met and I don't even know your name and-"

"John. My name's John," you respond, then you bend down to kiss Layla on her forehead. The simple act of affection endears you to Layla, and she steps around to give you a proper hug, wrapping her arms around you.