"Okay," Harding throws herself onto the stool. "So, Gabe. Parents popped out? They say where they were going?"

"Dad took a call, and my mom went home to get me some things."

"Fantastic." she flips open her notebook. "They still arguing?"

"Yeah, they've never really gotten along."

"Mine neither. Parents can be shit sometimes. So, I need to ask you some kinda weird questions, which is why I'm glad they're gone."

"Weird questions?" the kid wrinkled his nose. "Couldn't a guy do this?"

Harding grins. "I grew up with three brothers, and have been into more shenanigans in my life than you could imagine. I promise you, I've heard it all before."

"Shenanigans?"

"Aus is a dark place, kid."

"Dark enough to use the word shenanigans?"

"Oh-ho. Someone's feeling a little cheeky. That's good. Means you're feeling better. Now, sex?"

Gabe sighed self-deprecatingly. "As if. Girls don't even look at me?"

Harding sat back a little, looking thoughtful. "How old are you? Twelve, thirteen?"

"Twelve."

"Okay, so I have destroyed all photographic evidence of me at age twelve. I was spotty, scrawny, had no tits to speak of, and acted like a boy. Which, I still do now, but at the time, I looked like a boy too. And not the good kind of tom-boy, but the kind that gets called a lesbo, yeah?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is now I have a kid, so I obviously got laid at some point."

"But I've never even been kissed."

"Did you just miss my whole story? No one bothered to kiss me until I was fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Gabe's eyes widen.

"Yeah don't fucking tell anyone. So no sex then? Never without your permission or-"

"No!"

"All right," she holds up a hand. "I've got to make sure. It's my job. See ya later then." She's half-way out the door when he asks, somewhat embarrassedly, if he can ask her a question. "Sure thing."

He flushes. "Someone…someone told me that…"

"Oh spit it out. I told you, I've heard it all before."

"…that girls like tongue?"

She swallows a smile. "Tongue? Like in kissing?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, it's a thing, I guess. Guys like it too though, its…reciprocal. See ya, then." She hurries away before she starts laughing. It's the hysterical kind of giggling that bubbles up from an extended length of sheer unhappiness. She manages to compose herself before re-entering the office.

She's flipping a page when Mr Reilich storms in the door. House is the first to speak, irritated.

"Yes, of course, come right in."

He glances around, eyes landing on Harding. "Hey, you!"

She turns, then stands, setting her book aside. "Yes sir, how can I help you?"

"You talked to my son?" the man steps forward, a little to close. He's a head taller than Harding, but she holds herself straight, not flinching against his tone. "You asked him about sex?He's twelve."

"Yes sir, I did. We just had to make sure that-"

"Why the hell wasn't I consulted?"

She keeps her tone even. "I figured he would be more comfortable answering if neither you nor his mother were in the room." Chase has stood at the table, tensed. Even Foreman's lean against the cabinet has become more alert.

"What? You think he's ashamed to tell us he hasn't had sex?"

"No, but if he had been sexually active, he would have been more likely to be open about it with just me."

Reilich flexes his hand, and steps a little closer. "He's a good kid. Just because you were a whore at twelve-"

Every nerve is firing. Her hand curls, her weight shifts to the balls of her feet. She feels her core tighten. "Sir, I know you're under a tremendous amount of pressure, but there's no need to speak like that."

"I'll speak however I damn well-"

A hand grabs Harding's shoulder and pulls her back a little. Chase is there. "What she means to say, sir, is fuck off before we call security."

Reilich opens his mouth again, as if to retort, then thinks better of it and slams out of the room.

"Well," House says after a tense moment. "That was fun."

"Factually inaccurate," Harding says as she lowers herself into her chair. She's shaking as the adrenaline fades from her system. "I wasn't a whore till I was sixteen at least." Her voice sounds harsh, but when her phone rings, she jumps.

"You shouldn't have talked to him like that Chase." Cameron says as Harding leaves to take the call. "He'll tell Cuddy."

He shrugs, unconcerned. "And say what? 'I called your social worker a whore and your doctor had the nerve to defend her?' He's lucky nothing worse happened. She used to have a real temper."

"Here's a crazy idea," House chirps. "Maybe, if we diagnose his kid, he'll leave."

"Chase let me use your car?" Harding pokes her head back into the room.

"Why?"

He know's she's trying to hold it together. Her expression is perfectly neutral, but red stains around her eyes. It's when she doesn't react he knows she's at her worst. "Winnie's fucking sick. Gotta go get her. Don't want to take the bike."

"You're bringing her back here?"

"Yeah, House offered to let her sleep on the chair in his office."

"Whoa whoa whoa. I did not offer to let your snot nosed kid anywhere near-"

But she's caught the keys already. "Oops sorry didn't catch that," she calls, letting the door swing shut behind her.