Yeah. Yeah, okay. Every time this nymph says 'minion,' Foster increasingly feels like he's talking to someone's grandfather. He gives up on trying to get Syr to stop, though.

"Life energy," he rasps back, echoing the phrase with some mockery--it's a concise term and easily applied, but one that rings false to his sensibilities. It pretends to be a solution, sounds like a complete answer, but leaves out half the formula. Equal to life in any equation must be death--otherwise you're just wasting time.

"Mmmmm." He doesn't disguise his frustration behind that tone. Syrlya isn't wrong. He knows there's more--that there must be more to where he's been going, but he's been stalled and distracted.

Stupid. Lazy. Right when he needs to carve his loyalties in blood.