Branches hung low, laden with heaps of brilliant white. The snow of Fiore had dropped like leaves from the sky. Thanks to the relentless weather, the albino canine had trouble navigating from Oak Town into the prestigious Era. Despite having been on the run from the Rune Knights since the bloodshed of his clan, the Coyote was surprised that he was situated right under their snotty snouts. A number of emotions overwhelmed Faust; the namely one being wonderment. His will had solidified and he knew it; he was no longer the one being hunted. Given his resolve titled him a hunter, a hunter he would be.

Faust had been prepared for the weather, but the wind simply ignored his apparel and seeped across his skin. Along with the fox face on his own, his jet-black bomber jacket engulfed his upper body. It was tight enough to not hang loosely, not tight enough to restrict the owner in any possible way. Below, his legs were wrapped in joggers, also of jet-black. They were the latest fashion crave and Faust personally found them comfortable in their own way. Battle boots ate his feet. From an overview, Faust resembled a grim reaper, not with the style choice but rather with the color of his costume today.

Upon reaching the town of enemies, he sighed and showed his relief at reaching town. Still outside the perimeter of the town, Faust plopped down against the walls of Era. There were two guards not far from him, about ten meters away, but he didn't worry. It wasn't like he did anything wrong, broken any rules, at least not as of the time being. Perhaps something interesting would unfold.

It wasn't often that an eccentric fellow would join you the very moment you decided to take a breather of relief. If it wasn't for the full-face fox mask enveloping his face, an open-jawed man struck by astonishment would have been presented to any onlookers. As she entered the stage in an untimely manner, she offered greetings and followed up with an immediate question.

Lying was an interesting quality to have, more specifically, to master. While it was a tad unmoral to fib, there were times when it was necessary. Faust excelled at it, not because he was a magically-enhanced liar. The process of trial and error gifted Faust the ability to fib under any and all situations. There were many qualities to intake from a professional liar, most of which required knowing the person beforehand. There were also many qualities that people verified in order to decipher lies, though a fewer amount. Faust had manipulated himself to be the ideal fibber and it stuck; the words that were to come from his mouth were no exception to this rule. With the only thing true about his demeanor being brazenly lazy, he threw up his left arm and waved to the lady with a notable bust. "Hey there! My name's Geno!" he'd begin in a happy-go-lucky tone of voice. There was nothing out of ordinary from the way he talked. His hands were not fiddling, nothing twitched out of place. There were only his eyes, darting around, but it wasn't possible for Arisa to figure out such a matter. "I got lost." he blandly stated. Of course, this was no lie but rather a joke. There was the appropriate level of sarcasm flicked by his tongue as he answered her. It was a complete whole second given for the jest to sink in; whether it did or not was up to her.

Within the second, Faust dug through his bag and pulled out the golden fruit of strength, as he called it. Peeling one side of it off, he truly answered her whilst unboxing his banana on the other three directions. "I'm actually here to see if there's people willing to train me, you see. Back in my village, our martial arts could only be practiced to a certain extent." It was understandable, seeing as how the Rune Knights had to be at least proficient in hand-to-hand to join, right? They had to have had requirements. As soon as the Coyote finished his statement, the mask was lifted up, enough for Arisa to see his lips at most, but not any other features. It was key that people would not discover who he was. Otherwise, the guild was on the line. Or rather, his life was. Everything about him had to be mysterious; the Coyote would make no mistake. Unbeknownst to Arisa, 'Geno' didn't really come from a village but rather an ex-powerhouse clan, popular in the economic side of things. The clan was housed in Crocus, though the mansion remained as lifeless as the clan leader now.

An idea came to his mind. Trying his luck, Faust asked the nameless lady for a favor. He dropped all his things onto the ground, banana peel included, and stood up. With his mask back on, he asked her to have a little spar with him. Before she could reply, he moved into the middle of the road where his back would face Era, hoping Arisa would take the space in front of him.

There, he would assume a battle stance; the fists were brought up to the upper chest area, clenched but nothing too hard. His left shoulder was arched towards his to-be opponent. His feet were bobbing back and forth to a rhythm; only after one foot touched the ground would the other one leave. His knees were slightly bent, though that changed as he was bobbing about. Hopefully, he would prove to be somewhat proficient to this lady's level.

The woman played along with Faust, causing a sense of relief to him. It would be awkward if she denied the challenge whilst he already took a stance. As soon as she situated herself, he made a clear statement that the battle began from that moment on. "Just a friendly spar over here," he'd yell towards the guards. "Don't worry." This guaranteed their agreement to no interference in any way. The Coyote did not wait for any confirmation before he moved into action, dashing at utmost speed towards Arisa. It might not have been the brightest idea, charging straight towards the enemy from the front, but he wanted to confirm something. His dashing might have been peculiar to many; the low body posture was protected from incoming attacks to the front with two muscular arms in a defensive structure. They resembled the way a boxer would position his gloves around his chin, though whilst sprinting.

Upon reaching the target, Faust made sure his stance was firm; his left leg was situated behind his right, both gripping the ground with the knees bent slightly. The left hand would thrust towards her face, an attempt to obscure her vision. Had the hit landed, Faust would have continued with scratches along her face. It was a lowly method of fighting, but Faust only treated this as a life and death situation. If he couldn't make something happen now, he didn't belong with the bunch of other members of Grimoire Heart, fitting of the guild's masked reputation. But his movements were not wasted with a single offensive strike. His right hand was alert, ready to protect any attacks Arisa was to throw at him with her hands. If his right hand was to be ignored, the fingers would ball into a fist throwing a hook towards her stomach area.

Just as the combative hits were about to land, Faust stopped himself. Something inside of him said that it was wrong; a second sense that told him the rights and wrongs of the world. It was just a spar, yet he treated it like life and death, it could've harmed the woman or better yet, harmed himself in the deathmatch he created. It wasn't like him to have held back and considered the matter, but upon joining Grimoire Heart, a lot of things weren't normal. Mask still on, he turned and walked back into the road out of Era. Maybe next time.