"Infinite potential," the Faustian man mused, "I like that. No matter where you or every other star-travelling force goes, there's always humans. Resilient as ever, I suppose." His eyes traced the follower's deteriorating form, finally meeting the grunt's face and studying it. He searched the dry and vaguely humanoid face of the follower, drinking in its facial expression. Within himself, empathized with the being in front of him on a level far beyond human. He [i]felt[/i] the pain of the zealous soldier, having his very essence torn apart just for the sake of his leader communicating. But he felt no sympathy for the creature. "Who are you, exactly? Or more importantly, [i]what[/i] are you a part of?"