Nathan really did not think through much further than not-shooting Chloe, especially due to the pain he was supporting right now as he stumbled out of the girl's bathroom. The fire alarm hadn't been going for more than twenty seconds, but students were already funneling out the door. The blue haired girl was near the entrance, talking to a member of the security staff, so Nathan took the opportunity to try and blend among everyone else, slipping his pistol back into his coat as if nothing even happened. It amazed him how simple it was, really, to have pulled a gun on someone, murdered them, un-murdered them, then just walk away with nothing further.

What should he have done in that situation, honestly? What could he have done to make sure she stayed quiet (would she even stay quiet now?) without killing her? He may have done some fucked up shit in his life but he hadn't ever killed someone. Well . . . nobody who died.
Nathan's hand was still tightly wrapped around the grip of the pistol when a light but deliberate touch appeared on his shoulder. Nathan turned, suddenly separated by the situation, to see Principal Wells just a few steps out of his office, a single finger of his large hand on Nathan.

Oh, look, another pawn. "What do you want?" Nathan asked with an abrasiveness that essentially added up to a sneer, though his body became defensive and he immediately stepped out of Wells's touch.
Wells always took a deep breath before saying something, and Nathan could not tell if he was doing it to give himself time to prepare for speaking or if it just helped him maintain the low rasp of his voice. Wells took such a breath, and then said, "Mister Prescott. I think it would be best we have a talk in my office."

Nathan looked around him, noticing the last few students exiting the building, as well as the Chloe. Nathan gestured with his left hand over towards the body of students and asked, "It looks to me like we're evacuating, not lecturing right now."
Wells tried to give a cold stare, but he was the worst at it. He was just somebody who ate blackmail and kept things in order - he had no legitimate authority, and he knew it. So did Nathan. So did everyone. But still, in this context, he was in the position of (supposed) power, and he reinforced, "Now, Mr. Prescott. We have something to talk about."

Nathan aimed to stare him down, but it was pointless. Nathan shrugged, still not willing to bring his right hand out of his pocket, and with a sharp sound of disgust, said, "Whatthefuckever." He stepped sharply past the principal and walked into the little lounge in front of the office, then turned into the office.

It was about five minutes before Principal Wells followed Nathan's suit, and Nathan just sat drumming his fingers on the table for the first several minutes. Right before he entered, though, the intercom turned on, and Nathan heard:

"Nathan Prescott, please report to the principal's office immediately,"

Which struck him as a little odd. Annoyed, he leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the principal's desk as well as he could, his feet extending right in front of Wells's computer. It wasn't even comfortable, but Nathan just wanted the moment of resistance and power.

When Wells entered, he initially acted as if he didn't even notice, although a brief moment of pause from him indicated to Nathan that that was not true. Still, as he walked past Nathan, all he said was, "Well, now, I just heard a very interesting report about you from a fellow student."
Then, he was seated, and laced his own fingers together, elbows on the desk. "If you'd lower your feet Mr. Prescott, it would allow us to have a proper conversation."
Nathan was clearly uninterested in either of these details, because he made no move. Instead, he just finally removed his hands from his jacket and settled them across his chest defiantly. "A report, huh? What'd they have to say?"

Wells was quiet for a moment while he waited for Nathan to pull down his feet, but when it was clear that wasn't happening, he just took another characteristic breath before continuing, "As it appears, some minutes ago you were 'in the girl's bathroom, waving a gun around.' Now, that doesn't sound like the activities of a respectable student such as yourself to me, but-"

"It was that quiet bitch in the gray hoodie, wasn't it?" Well, at least it didn't take long to see how that would come back to bite him. Nathan wondered if he could still rewind, maybe drag that girl out with Chloe to intimidate her, too. Two girls would be a lot harder to control, though . . .

"Ms. Caulfield seemed concerned about your health. She said you were speaking to yourself, that you seemed par-"

Nathan was not going to let him finish. Honestly, it gave him so much satisfaction to keep this stupid facade that the principal kept up running on three wheels - perhaps this guy could live in constant denial of what went on around here, but that had never been Nathan's specialty. The only way to stop thinking about it was to stop thinking at all. "Caulfield? Like, Max fucking Caulfield? The hipster shit Victoria's bitching about all the time? What a dumb ass - nothings like her don't have anyone at their back."
It was a little funny how annoying these people Nathan saw as nothing could be when given the opportunity. It was Nathan's fault for putting himself in a situation so vulnerable that either one of them could get to him, but it gave him a weird sense of pleasure knowing that they were there, that they were the gnats on his skin, because he could crush them whenever he needed to. Even in places that weren't practically fucking designed to exploit teenage girls could barely protect them, and here they were attending a school that actively preyed on them. These girls were just fucking stupid, and something about that made Nathan feel great.

Wells gave a grunt of frustration, but he just had to eat his way past it, like he always did. If Nathan did a good job, he would be what Wells thought about as he drank himself unconscious tonight. And, hey, it was a lot more fun to get shitfaced angry than it was to get shitfaced guilty. "Yes, Maxine Caulfield, a student of Mr. Jefferson's and an out-of-state student. She seemed very upset by what she saw in the bathroom. I trust you didn't say anything . . . *revealing during this little episode, did you? Nothing that might be of concern to this school or your family?"

Nathan shrugged, lifting his hands a little to emphasize how unsure he was about this. "Well, I mean, it's a bathroom, you should be a little revealed, at least."
Wells made no comment, but just kept his flat stare on Nathan.
Nathan sighed and lowered his hands back down onto his stomach. "Nah, I didn't say much. She might have learned something from that blue-haired bitch Chloe, though."

Wells's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "There was another student in the bathroom with you?"

Nathan's head tilted as he realized what that meant. "You don't know about that?" he asked. But Wells's look of confusion was enough for him. A smirk appeared on Nathan's lips for just a moment, and he decided it was time for an experiment.

Nathan raised his right hand into the air. He felt some strange pressure in his palm, as if there was some great resistance right in front of him that he was applying just the lightest of pressure to. And, feeling that, he pushed against it, hard, though the force was not physical . . . it was hard to describe. But it made him feel like the very skin of his hand was unraveling itself from his flesh, though just for a moment.

". . . revealing during this little episode, did you? Nothing that might be a concern to this school or your family?"

The smirk was still on Nathan's face when he recognized the scene from some forty seconds ago, and he wiggled a little in his chair with profound smugness. "Nah, I didn't say shit. And I don't even keep a gun on me - I'm not fucking stupid, you know."

Now Principal Wells's eyebrows shot up instead of crushing down, as if this were a terribly new revelation which, if it were true to him, probably would be. "Really now? So what were you holding in your pocket when you left the bathroom, or when I walked in here?"

Nathan shrugged for a second, then reached in to his pocket~ and retrieved the pistol. "This," he said, and a deep scowl appeared on the principal's face.

"What are you doing?" Wells asked as Nathan placed the pistol down on the ground, then swept it forward towards the desk with his foot.
"Hiding my gun," Nathan replied simply.
"You're not doing a very good job," Wells growled, and for a second it looked like he was reaching for his phone.

However, by that time, Nathan had relaxed back into his chair, and he raised his hand again. He rewound.

Nathan pulled out his pockets, showing their emptiness to the principal. "Don't know what the fuck you're talking about, man, but I definitely don't have a gun in my pockets. Like I said, I'm not fucking stupid."

Wells nodded, glad to see that he was wrong about reading Nathan, though he figured he could still have a gun on him. Still, he was not terribly worried so long as it was not visible, as he doubted the impact of a single student's complaint with no admission of guilt and no evidence to back her up would bring any negative press to the area. The Prescotts received a wide array of falsified and legitimate accusations all the time, but they were never actually touched by them. They were immortal to such things, Wells knew that. He just hoped Nathan would not be so stupid. Speaking of which . . .
"Now, what I brought you in here to speak about. If you'll move your feet, I have something to show you on the monitor," he said, gesturing to the computer monitor.

Nathan shrugged again, but pulled his feet down, sat up, and peered at the screen as Wells opened up an e-mail, followed an attached link, and turned the monitor so that they could both see it clearly.
Nathan recognized the video immediately, as well as the link. .com. Victoria's commentary and banter while a drugged Kate Marsh falls all over a few athletes and tries (successfully, in some cases), to stick her tongue in their mouths. The video would be of pretty minor concern, except that along the second half, Nathan appears and pulls her away from the crowd. She falls over him for a bit, but it's clear he talks to her for maybe twenty seconds before leaving her to pass out on a couch.

Nathan snickers. "Yeah, Marsh's little porn video - everyone's seen it. So what?" He thought about reclining back again, but he knew this was not a positive thing to have everywhere - it was not good that he was scene by something so sober as a camera. So he could not exude quite the confidence it would take for that just yet.

Wells seemed almost shocked by Nathan's reaction, and he gestured at the screen again. "So what? That's you, Mr. Prescott, with an intoxicated student at one of your parties. I know what this is, and your friend Miss Chase has caused quite a problem in publishing it. How do you plan to handle this? In all rightness, you should likely be suspended, along with Miss Chase for your misconduct at this party, although I am well aware that is impossible." Wells closed out of the web page and turned the monitor back toward himself.

Nathan just rolled his eyes, "Oh just fucking try, Raymond, you haven't got shit for hands to touch me with. You'd be out of a job so fast, and I think you'd find yourself more than suspended if they found the pictures of Katie you've got whereverthefuck you store that shit. How do you like those, by the way - up to your standards? The one of her on her face is mine. Or do you prefer it when you can see their e-"

"Be QUIET, NATHAN PRESCOTT!" Roared Wells, his hand slamming down on 'quiet' as he stood in his seat and loomed over Nathan. To be perfectly honest, he was a pretty big guy even when Nathan was seated, and Nathan flinched before he remembered that this was just the lashing-out of a weak coward.
He just stood, breathing heavily, lenses flaring as he tried to bring himself back down from the spike of rage. Nathan was used to these outbursts, and he knew they'd die out after a moment, so he just stared back at Wells with a flat affect until the man finally forfeited, and seated himself again.

"Look," Nathan said in a lower, raspier, more conciliatory tone, "This video means nothing, all right? Whatever Marsh was before, whatever standing she had at this school, it's gone now, all right? She's nothing. She's not some Rachel Amber somebody'd make posters for in the first place, all right? But nobody protects girls like her, not once they've shown what sluts they are. This video will bury her, not us. Chill out, all right? Have a drink, shit."

Wells was clearly still angry, but there was nothing more that he could do. He stared at Nathan for a little longer, then turned his attention down to his desk. He quickly retrieved some meaningless piece of paperwork to busy himself with. "That will be all, Mr. Prescott."

Nathan raised his hands in a 'yay' sign before standing in front of the desk for a moment#. Then, he leaned down, grabbing his gun by the top of the barrel.
"What are you doing?" Wells asked.
Nathan replied, "Ahh, just getting my gun."
Wells started: "What?"

Nathan waved it for a second, then dropped it into his pocket.

Wells began again, "How did you-"

But Nathan didn't give a shit - he just raised his hand and took those seconds back. Wells didn't even look up this time around, though Nathan took a few seconds to revel in his newfound power. "See ya, P." Nathan said, and sauntered out of the office.