Though still cold, his office is a few degrees warmer than usual. It smells of peppermint and cigarettes, the former on account of a tea tray sitting on the desk. Aside from the tea, the desk is empty, and Zev would have ample space to put the beer.

There is, in fact, another empty chair... but it's not meant for guests. Its purposes are alarmingly clear by the fact that it's bolted to the floor. There is a drain beneath it.

"I know it," he affirms, of Naomi Sato's brewery. "And her. She's deceptively sweet, isn't she?"

He smiles, seemingly delighted rather than disturbed.

He doesn't offer Zev tea, both because of the beer the other had brought and on account of prior reactions. Instead, he nudges the tray aside and reaches for a bottle of the signature Shadow Punch. Notes of pumpkin and cinnamon combine pleasantly to taste.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?"

They hadn't scheduled a meeting just to drink; Gavin's time is too important, especially of late.

He follows Zev's gaze to the chair, the ghost of a smirk tugging his lips. The floor is ever-so-slightly slanted toward the drain, to collect whatever fluids might be expelled from the unfortunate soul who'd sit that macabre throne. No trace of its previous occupant can be seen; Gavin is efficient in his cleanliness. The entire office is spotless.

Attention flicks back to Zev as their conversation continues.

"I reconciled my surprise on the occasion of the meeting," he assures Zev drily, "though I am curious: why now?"

Most things seem able to be traced back to Caleb Harcourt, where Zev is concerned. Gavin has no notion as to the younger Harcourt's whereabouts, but he can think of no other reason except, "Your brother?"

To Gavin's credit, he processes the unexpected news with only a widening of the eyes and the lift of his brow. He had expected, perhaps, that Zev had found only a lead — that he had more than this was downright shocking.

How had they missed it?

We looked, he thought, but not in the right places.

"Used?" His tongue wraps the word in doubt. He's thinking of Razz Kingsman. "Are you certain?"

No. What he's wondering is a little more bleak. Had Caleb been forced, or had he become disillusioned with Rocket like so many others? Once, Gavin would've assumed the loyalties of men like Razz and Archon to be a given.

Zev appears unshakably certain, however, and there's no point wasting breath on trying to change his mind. They'd find out soon enough, one way or the other.

"I won't be at Littleroot." Plans could change, but for now, "My attentions will be on our Mt. Pyre operation. But, if there's something I can do for you...?"

He trails off, not feeling the need to state it any more explicit than that. He's helped Zev in the past, after all.

Gavin nods at the request, reaching under the desk to press a button. Its surface splits apart, a laptop lifted into place. As the underboss flips up the screen, the dormant Rotom in his phone assimilates with this new technology.

"I'll send pertinent files on Littleroot, as well as my own report regarding our siege of the Contest Hall." It may have seemed a strange thing to include, but, "There was a Tree of Life beneath it. I had thought it to be destroyed, but it was admittedly the first thing to come to mind when Velmos mentioned a source of energy."

The Tree of Life in Sootopolis, after all, had been a source of energy so large as to bring about the Darkest Day.

"Personnel are still in the process of being assigned, but I'll forward the files of those I'm certain will be in attendance. Rotom. Redact restricted information." He trusted Zev well enough, but there were details in personnel files that the assassin wasn't cleared to know. "Beast Delarosa is the most prominent confirmed. Have you met?"

Gavin notes Zev's narrowed eyes, guessing at the context.

"It wasn't so large as the one in Sootopolis," he clarifies. "But still a formidable sight."

He shakes his head at the question; he and bryan delarosa were not close. But... "As underboss, the Beasts are at my beck and call." He seems to enjoy that power. "I can put you in touch. I think he'll appreciate your skillset."