Taunt and mock her. Try to goad her into doing something stupid.

“Is that it?” you ask, adopting a confused expression.

Chloe frowns. “...I’m sorry?”

You shrug, as best you can with her pinning you to the turnbuckle, anyway. “I don’t know, I guess I just kinda thought there’d be...more. They billed you to be all dramatic and flashy and everything and you’re just gonna, what, beat the shit out of me in the corner?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” she says, but she seems a little doubtful about it.

You yawn theatrically. “Bo-ring!”

Her eyes narrow at the quip. “Alright, smartass. You want flashy? I’ll give you flashy.”

She backs up across the entire ring, and charges at you—playing right into your hands.

You launch yourself off the turnbuckle and raise your arm a little above shoulder height. Before she can change direction or slow down, she crashes right into it, sending her straight down to the canvas with the wind knocked out of her.

“Whoa!” the commentator gasps. “A nice bit of psychological warfare by John gets Chloe in position for a clothesline. Looks like he’s turned his fortunes around.”

“I can’t...believe...I fell...for that,” wheezes Chloe as you slide in for the pin.

She’s still trying to catch her breath as the ref counts to three, and only manages to get it back once you’re both back on your feet.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” she says. “You earned that one.”

You’ve won a point for a pinfall.