Lew meets her walking along the train tracks that run along the channel between the town and the island, a short, nondescript sort of woman in dun colored pants and a hoodie slightly too large for her body. “You lost,” he says; not a question because no one comes to the tracks intentionally unless they were getting paid to be there, and he knows all those folks.
“No,” she says, maybe; it’s hard to tell. She speaks down into her chest, and her voice is muffled by the hood. “I’m supposed to meet someone here.”
“Here?” He looks around. The sunset is nice enough, and you can see the water and the city floating on the other side of it alright, but mostly what you see is rubble and barbed wire and oil. “You don’t want to meet anyone here. It’s dangerous.”
“Here’s where he said, here’s where I am.”
Lew shrugs, and keeps moving. When he passes back by at the end of his shift she’s still sitting there, hunched forward a little. Light from the yard picks out a pile of clothes dumped at her feet. The bottoms of her pants are soaked to the knees. He hitches his step and she sways towards him, just a little, and he thinks better of it. At three am you let them have the night who want it.