Ricardo stands by the entrance of the doorway, watching in silence at his boss across the room: sunken into his chair with a glass of liquor, deep in thought or distracted from it to the best of the tequila's ability. Del Rio is waving away a servant refilling the glass and waits for him to leave before attempting to stand, taking no regard to Ricardo who comes to his aid immediately, catching him as he stumbles with just a few steps and removing the glass from his hands. He had enough. Wanting to be alone, Alberto shoves Ricardo away and props an arm against the bookshelf for support as his awareness of intoxication settles over him. A few steps later and he is allowing himself to slide down the wall and just stay on the floor for a few moments before even trying to stand up again; his name ringing in his ears, "Alberto? Alberto? Are you alright?" He swats in his announcer's direction.

Their eyes meet and if it had not been before, the heart of his assistant has been completely shattered with the unfamiliar, completely out of character look in his employer's eyes. Ricardo kneels down, putting Alberto's generously muscled arms around his shoulder, helping him up and doing his best to get him up to the bedroom with out too much extra hassle. In silence, Del Rio sits, saying nothing and staring into obscurity with his thoughts sweeping him out of being present again. He reaches for the phone, his hand immediately pulled away as Ricardo sits on the bed beside the aristocrat, reminding him that he was not going to allow this to happen. Alberto simply needs time to think, regardless if the thought process required a few drinks or not.

His beautiful, vigorous eyes that have now dulled with great misery and a faded glossy look. He stares at an empty glass on the table, left behind, forgotten by one of the maids. She would have been fired if she was not as beautiful as she was. Ricardo looks away, sighing heavily… Alberto had a strict reservation about mixing classes.

His boss stares into the emptiness of the doorway, he expects a gorgeous, energetic, raven haired young man to come bouncing in. He misses a certain smile and beauty that once belonged to an unmarred innocence that had become so scarred now. A heavy sigh escapes his mouth, before his face is turned in Ricardo's palm, their eyes meeting for a moment before he shifts his back to the doorway, hoping through all of his liquor obscured memories that his love would come bouncing in with that unmatched enthusiasm for life.

The ring announcer is completely out of line as he stares into the aristocrat's heartbreaking eyes, knowing just who was on his mind, and being unable to fight the desire to know if he had ever been on Alberto's mind the same way that the now disgraceful Evan Bourne was. He knew that his employer, the object of his own affection, would not stand for the undesired behavior that had now ended up the once so innocent young man in a addiction rehabilitation center. This had come out of no where, and if he was the type to do it, Ricardo would have smeared it directly in Del Rio's face about his judgment of Bourne being correct - out of jealousy or not.

Happiness. That's all he could feel.. He knows it's wrong to be so ecstatic, but it doesn't feel wrong at all. Especially when he is playing his favorite song and jumping for joy, literally, in his bedroom.

It never felt wrong… except when he looked into Alberto's destroyed eyes now. Had Evan really been the one he had been waiting for his entire life? Just to be let down so hard by the embarrassment of drug usage tainting his relationship and social status... Alberto refused to even speak to his friends of elite status. What would they say, after all?

Evan was truly a godsend, it had mellowed out the aristocrat so much that he had now been …almost approachable. In a way. He was sincerely happy, his face the same as buying a vintage car, though the smile was forever plastered there, not just lasting for the moments of material desire.

For the better part of "forever" Ricardo had been waiting for Alberto to display the same feelings that he had for Evan for him.. His little assistant… peasant. When he looks back down at the heavily intoxicated man, their eyes meet and his happiness over the situation with the newlywed couple's fading relationship seems so long ago when he takes a moment to look, rather than just see, and suddenly, he's more than just comforting his employer out of a facade pity before returning to his joyous party.

The feel of hot, whiskey scented breath across his flesh is more enticing than it smells, his eyes slowly drift to a close as he's pushed back into the silky-soft, white sheets. For whatever reason that he can't quite pin-point instantly, he turns his head away from sharing a drunken kiss with his boss's liquor corrupted lips. He wants him more than anyone could possibly want anything… but this way just felt all too confusing. Was he even going to remember this in the morning? Likely not. It's not his ideal fantasy, or anything he wants - yet he greedily accepts the second attempt to feel Destiny's greatest kisser.