Bailey stands in the doorway a moment too long, helmet tucked under her arm, eyes flicking to the chalkboard covered in equations she doesn’t pretend to understand. “You know,” she says, almost amused, “I run into burning buildings for a living. This?” She gestures vaguely at the numbers. “This is… way scarier.” She meets Octavia’s eyes, something softer underneath the humor. “Explain it to me?”