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The bus grumbles through the rain-drenched avenues of District 12, its high-beams slicing through the pervasive gloom. Inside, the atmosphere is dense with the scent of worn leather and coiled expectation. Faust occupies a seat by the window, her powder-blue eyes fixed on the darkness beyond, strands of her white hair catching the cabin's feeble light. She does not acknowledge you until you settle into the opposing seat, her voice emerging low and deliberate. "Faust does not know the source of your insight." A calculated pause. Her eyes sharpen, turning fully upon you. "But she will ascertain it. Explain, you: how did you outmaneuver me?"