Henry Barthow
The trip back hadn't been noteworthy except for its constraining silence, but for this time the detective couldn't claim any flaw of his in social engagement. Presumably. It wasn't as if they had any time to talk once they checked in and delivered their report, because they had to prepare to pass it along in the meeting that had been called in a rush as a reaction to the terrorist attack that had been at the head of his partner's information; due to its proximity and amount of active agents, it was decided the forces to deal with the emergent problem would meet at their police station. Which brought them here.
The makeshift conference room was bustling with impatient cops and enforcers alike, who didn't have enough chairs to go around. There were less of them than he thought there would be. But you couldn't walk around without foldable chairs clacking against each other, and in an affair like this there were no few people who wouldn't sit still even with the sargeant glaring daggers at them and a strike leader (for some reason in full assault armor) barking for order in court. Only a couple of seats (discounting those who were just standing against a wall or doorframe) had freedom to swing your arm, and one of them was occupied by an armored stone warrior with an eternal cold flame burning in his eyes. An elite. The other was his own, due to the chair on his left being passingly empty.
Mechanical buzzing made Henry lower his head, scampering his gaze from the returning Noel, who awkwardly tried to make her way to the third row of roughly even seats, while their superiors immediately went back to talking again. After assessing the damages and primary consequences of the initial attack, it had been her role to present her experience with the perp. With the danger of the assignment contextualized to the best of effects as possible, it was determined what each group's place in the coming operations would be; police would primarily handle investigation and PR, and the enforcers would be ready to respond to a follow-up attack while "developing countermeasures". That part was so padded and obvious Henry's stomach grew more bitter than the last coffee he'd had.
He glared at the drone that nearly gave him a haircut as precise roles began to be doled out to squads, and the duo of him and Vermillion was confirmed for interrogation of the other direct witness of the target's abilities.