"There's a petition," she said at last. "Thick paper. Old seal. It says the Association is overstepping seasonal rights by touching 'legacy sacraments' during a school period."
"Send it to Records," he said. "Label it spring."
Her brow rose a little. "It's winter."
"It'll be spring by the time they finish reading it," he said, and that pulled a laugh from her before she could stop it.
She caught it halfway, smothered it with her hand, but the sound still cracked the stiffness of the room. It felt less like a machine and more like a place where people lived and breathed.
Her shoulders eased, but only for a moment. Then her face grew serious again. "Director," she said quietly.
No drama, no pause to make it heavier, just plain truth. "If this goes wrong in the gate, we won't have time to learn from it."
"It won't go wrong," he said. His tone wasn't comforting. It wasn't bravado either. It was certain.
