Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

Everything had been going to plan. Sergievsky was against the ropes and on his last nerve and Trumper had arrived just in time to make his grand entrance. It was all perfect...until that bald, kid had to throw a wrench in it.

Reporters were shouting questions about his connection to the CIA at him, which Walter deflected with practiced ease, as he tracked Molokov out of the corner of his eye. He had no doubt his Russian counterpart would want a word and Walter was already trying to think of way to convince him that he didn't know who the kid was, despite him being American, or how he knew what he knew. And of ways to stop Molokov from just shooting like Walter knew he wanted too.

It took Walter another five minutes to escape the reporters, giving him just enough time to meet Molokov outside one of the back enterences to the studio. He immediately put his hands up, as if holding back the angry Russian. "Look, before you start, I have no idea who that kid was or how he knew I was CIA."