Gray ended up having lunch with Megan at a streetside ramen stand down in the International District, mostly because they couldn’t find a place where the staff didn’t give them the stink-eye when they came in the door. Apparently Civil Protection wasn’t too welcome those days, not with the way that Pacification had pushed the rioters from Seattle Center down there a few weeks ago. There was still some damage visible - flickering neon signs, promotional display screens still showing the pearly veins of drying patchweb. The white wounds of masonry clipped from live rounds of Pacifiers’ guns when people didn’t get the idea that the rubber bullets were a warning, not the message itself. The leathery old man running the stand was more than happy to have police at his counter, however, so soup it was.

Lunch was mostly eaten in silence, with a few sputterings of unrelated small talk keeping some semblance of the casual meal between co-workers it was supposed to be. Gray was very aware of the weight of their conspiracy, how it killed his desire to talk about anything else - but there were ears everywhere, after all, and it would be senseless to discuss their plans in public. Eventually Megan excused herself again, saying that she’d talk to him later. He imagined that meant as soon as he’d heard something new, or whenever they had to work together again. Given that he wasn’t on field duty that didn’t seem likely anytime soon.