"Well." Kostya steeples his fingers. "I'm sure Atlas is charming, but..." a concerned look at the floor - "... he still was a worker." His gaze roams in search of something. A vending machine, maybe? "He didn't know the elite."

"And the elite in this place, they had things to hide. Places to hide them." Whatever it was, the search turns up unfounded. "I don't know it all. They weren't my friends. But I... well..." a thought passes over his face - "... let us say I saw things."