Blue eyes are unsettling on any one thing in the makeshift office. It is almost silent, even with the pronounced footsteps that circle around the faux leather chair and make life seem so predictable and simple this morning when he had been relaxing at the spa, getting a wax and his nails done alongside Vickie Guerrero and a complaining Jack Swagger. There really was nothing worse than listening to Jack complaining about everything from the waxing, to his matches, and to having to discuss every up to the minute detail on his latest relationship with Josh Mathews… especially during his nude tanning session; and just like that, his attention is focused back on the boss.

After another pace around the prior US Champion, the Interim General Manager finally decides to take a seat at the not so sturdy looking desk; informing the superstar across from him to relax when he notices the understandable worry on his face. He almost laughs at the way Ziggler releases the breath he did not realize he was holding. Folding his hands on the desk, he leans forward to observe the beautiful man in front of him; a few compliments roll off his tongue just slightly jumbled, though he quickly corrects himself. Almost nervous himself, he finally leans back in the chair, though his cheeks do not replicate the redness of Ziggler's. He clears his throat before his voice switches to a more casual one, Ryder's name being brought to attention makes Dolph react like a deer in headlights; his eyes widening before he stands up and shakes the situation off quickly.

Dolph's voice is almost panicked to make some kind of explanation for the loud, one-sided shouting match in the locker room, and the scene that took place in front of Laurinaitis, and even goes so far as to cover for Eve's attractiveness. Laurinaitis' eyebrow quirks, attempting to piece everything together successfully as the blonde stumbles over all of his words worse than Laurinaitis himself has ever had in the ring before - even when he was so infuriated with the actions of CM Punk. He stands, eyeing his text messages for a moment as he steps up toward the Superstar backing himself up against the door like a scared dog in the pound, fearing the fact that he was about to die.

The look in those blue eyes almost break the GM, some mixture of confusion and what he assumes is fear, or embarrassment; an affirmative observation when the blonde tries to speak in his own, pathetic little defense. He had never seen Dolph so… out of character, his high maintenance; cocky persona replaced with… whatever this was in front of him. To admit to his own confusion would have been a vast understatement. He steps closer, pocketing his phone and resting a hand on Ziggler's shoulder.

Laurinaitis is not as lost in his own thoughts as Dolph had been, wondering how a goof-ball idiot like Zack Ryder had turned his amazing star - and there it is - his star. His. He smirks, looking at how attractive Ziggler looks in front of him, even if he looked so lost. There is a basic reassurance that things would work out fine, and his monotone voice is almost enough to disguise the lustful undertone hiding in it.

As any other person, he had seen this a few times before in movies that he didn't want to watch in the first place, from being forced to sit through them while he watched over a pregnant McIntyre for his own boss when McMahon had been too busy, (or just annoyed enough to make something up.) That had definitely come in handy right now: and so he cuts to the chase. A few compliments of Dolph's body, his in-ring talents, perfect hair, beautiful eyes, and how he did not deserve to be treated as anything less than a trophy and worshipped as such. His comments begin to get repetitive, not that either of them had noticed, or Dolph had, and immediately welcomed it from his best guess; he certainly had not resisted.

John's smirk only grows wider as his other hand finds it's way to the lapel of Dolph's blazer, trailing down to the button and unfastening it while he finally gets his lips onto his for a moment - right before Dolph pulls himself away from the GM, abruptly backing himself into the wall.

The look of shock and confusion lasts not even long enough for Laurinaitis to reprise himself with flattery for the younger man. The extremely sought after compliments he wanted from Ryder that had come from his boss instead seem to hit him all at once now, his shock moving more towards the look of surprise and a smile quickly spreading across his face.

Dolph Ziggler was a trophy, a deserving one at that, and to him, once again: if Ryder would rather have a skank like Eve, or an ogre like Cena, then he was going to miss out on a person who is better than they are at everything, with an out-of-this-world body and superb blonde hair. His gaze shifts back up at Laurinaitis, the consideration of just throwing himself at someone who wanted to worship him again quickly tamed. Regaining his composure from that idea, he questions - a little more quietly than he would have wanted to - the truthfulness in those marvelous comments. He is looking to the side, and wishing his confidence would have returned somewhere inside of those pretty little adulations from the GM. He remembers a time when he would have agreed and sauntered off.

It is hard to think of the corporate brownnoser as being sexual - though this seemed to become quite the common thing around the WWE as of late, with Mr. McMahon getting his mitts and money on McIntyre and all. Their eyes meet when Laurinaitis latches his hands onto the blazer's lapels for a second try, pulling Dolph away from the wall and against his chest; a heavy, staggered breath escaping the lips of the would-be porn star. He looks down at the blonde, knowing this would be the opportune movie-moment for Ryder to walk in and catch them - and he even wishes for that to happen.

Spur of the moment fantasy becomes ecstasy as John's lips press against Dolph's, with no sign of resistance met, he indulges himself into a taste of chapstick he cannot quite describe; and the realization that he probably should have asked Otunga for some advice. With no blood flow in his brain, and himself talking about God knows what in-between kissing his Superstar, he is not sure who is taking the lead as he crashes down on the couch on top of the blonde; though he is sure that he initiated the movement.

Dolph's eyes are half lidded, fluttering in pattern with his heavy breath. It has been some time since he had been staring up at a ceiling, his leg thrown over someone's waist with passionate force. He manages to put away the annoyance-factor at Laurinaitis talking while he was kissing and nibbling at his neck, listening instead to the thump of his blazer being thrown against the wall while he agreed to make sure Ryder lost his upcoming match.