"Are Champion Moon and Aether President Gladion a Thing?!" the headline reads.

Gladion gapes at it in horror, at the photos of the two of them on the shores of Hano Grand Resort, yet his pale-white, bare skin glares right back at him. Beside him, Moon lets out a dismissive chuckle, which is really just a sarcastic, devoid-of-emotion hum to those who don't know her, but Gladion does. Perhaps too well, since he can't exactly say he's surprised at her nonchalance toward this abomination, this utter invasion of their privacy.

"It's the press. What can you do." She shrugs, eyes still skimming over the article and the pictures included. There's one of him in the midst of chucking a poor pyukumuku back into the ocean, Moon standing aside looking proud—or smug. With her, you can never tell.

In spite of himself, he rolls his eyes and releases a frustrated sigh. "I don't know, sue?"

Moon doesn't reply, instead opting to flick through the tabloid with what he hopes isn't interest. Who even believes this garbage anyway? Most of it is complete junk—he's pretty damn sure Olivia is still single, and that Kukui and Burnet are most definitely not getting a divorce, though it's not like he can say for sure, because he obviously doesn't pay attention to useless media like gossip magazines. Yes, he's only aware of these things because Moon mentions them offhandedly in that deadpan voice of hers that's no longer so creepy as it is endearing.

"Hey, you look cute in this one," she says, focusing his attention back to the article, and Gladion can only rub his eyes and groan.

In the photo, he's got his sweatshirt back on as if the Alolan sun didn't blaze above boiling temperatures, and he's most definitely not pouting. Maybe he was a little annoyed that he'd allowed Moon to convince him to prance around in just swimming trunks, which only resulted in a horrible sunburn and Moon rubbing pyukumuku gunk all over him. He envies her that, amongst other things, that the most the sun can do to her is give her a couple of freckles here and there, but he'd be lying if he said they weren't straight-up adorable, especially the ones across her nose.

He finds that the longer she skims over the magazine the more amused she is, with the occasional quirk of her lips and an almost imperceptible laugh. She's not bothered by this one bit, he realizes, for someone so quiet and, quite frankly, more of a hermit than he is, and he resists the urge to snatch it out of her hands and throw it over the harbor and into the sea. But then he'd be polluting, and it's only a slippery slope of Moon being disappointed in him and him being disappointed in himself, so—he doesn't, and opts to simply clench his fists in his pockets.

He snaps out of his reverie when he hears the familiar chattering of Rotom mixed with the soft din of Moon's voice.

"Gladion, could you hold this for a sec?" Without waiting for a reply, she shoves the magazine into his hands, content facing outward, and Gladion sputters as a bright light flashes before his eyes. "Thanks. Rotom. Send this to Hau, please. Oh, Lillie too."

"Of course, my girl!" the Pokémon says, swaying happily in mischief. Gladion can do nothing but groan at this point, but for what it's worth, Moon pats his arm lightly in consolation.

"Hey, I only took the ones that I thought were especially flattering to you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn't," he says into his hands.

"Well, at least the tabloids got something right this time. I know how concerned you are with…what'd you call it?"

He glares at her from under his hair. "Verisimilitude? Credibility? Dignity?"

She smiles up at him, and she looks so innocent that Gladion can only sigh in defeat. If Hau were here, he'd make some joke about him being whipped. Which he most certainly was, and everyone knew it. Especially Moon herself.

"Yeah, that."