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Herc hovers in the corridor, twisting that ring of his, mind somewhere farther away than his son's hiding place.

"He still in there?" asks Officer Nguyen, tilting her head toward a maintenance closet

Herc jerks his hand from his ring, grunts in the affirmative. He clears he throat, still croaks, "Ye can make this go away?"

"Without a doubt, Ranger," affirms Nate. "I've already worked matters out with a friend in the press and Officer Nguyen—"

Nguyen nods.

"—has kindly arranged for an immediate Corps' response." Considers, addresses Nguyen: "Have I told you lately how cute you look in uniform?"

Nguyen smiles, blushing. >if Nate would do this; she would XD<

Herc asks, "What're ye gonna do?"

"We're going to give the press what they want."

Herc turns battleship grey.

Nguyen pats his arm, leads him away.

Nate knocks on the closet door. "Chuck?"

""What?""

"May I come in?"

""Why?""

"Your dad—"

Chuck scoffs.

"—and Officer Nguyen asked me to talk with you."

A beat.

""You're Nate?""

"I am."

A beat.

""Just talk?""

"Just talk, and you can tell me to sod off if you don't want to."

A beat.

The door unlocks.

Nate opens it only much as she needs to, squeezes past Chuck, and perches on an unopened box of cleaning supplies.

Chuck, somehow very small—and very, very young—his skin pale and eyes red-rimmed and wet, ensures the door really is shut and locked, then resumes hugging his knees.

"This is a bit of a rude awakening for you," Nate says.

Chuck addresses the floor: "I don't want my life—" Breaks off with an awful sound, grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes, hunches even smaller.

Nate pats— "May I pat your shoulder?"

Chuck, face twisted in a grimace, nods.

Nate pats his shoulder. "Press vultures are part of being a Ranger, a part for which your Academy does an absolute crap job of preparing you."

Chuck snorts.

"You, being a handsome young man, are a special prize among my kind."

"Jaeger Flies," sneers Chuck.

Nate inclines her head[, then smirks. "There are Jaeger Flies; then there's me."

Chuck growls, "Yer not—"

"Easy, now." Nate gestures for calm. "I mean that I have the skills to solve your current problem." Grins. "The supposed 'problem' has already been addressed, I think?"

Chuck's ears flame red.

"It'll look worse before matters improve, but just say the word and this will all go away."

Chuck's spine goes to steel. "I'm not—"

"You won't have to," assures Nate.

"Then how?"

"I send a message to my gossip blogger friend claiming success, they post a headline and a pre-drafted article, the Corps, citing rules about naming minors without parental consent, sends a 'cease and desist', the article comes down, rinse and repeat until it's yesterday's news."

"And this'll work why?"

"It'll work because of what I am."

Chuck inhales, nods.

Nate sends a text, tucks away her mobile. "Give it five minutes."

"I didn't— I left—" Chuck looks away from Nate, rests his head on his knees.

"Good plan, actually," says Nate.

"Of course it is." Chuck sniffs, wipes an eye.

Nate checks her mobile—the top result is still the countdown, now in the negative.

So they sit there in silence for a bit.

Nate checks her mobile again—'I TOOK CHUCK HANSEN'S VIRGINITY', announces the first listing.—"It's begun."

"How bad is it?"

Nate refreshes.

The top five results, all from different sources, all say variations of the same thing.

"The powder keg's alight, how about that?"

"I don't want to see."

Nate refreshes again.

The entire first page now.

Chuck's eyes grow more red.

Nate loads the page once again, shows him the screen.

-YOUNGEST RANGER IN HISTORY BREAKS RECORD- announces the top result.

Chuck exhales.

"Simple as that," says Nate. She stands, smooths her trousers. "Must be off. If you wish to talk, or—" Stands /**slightly** too close to Chuck. "—not—"

Chuck glowers.

Nate grins. "You know how to reach me." Lets herself out.