Torin hesitated. Damn, but she wasn't asking easy questions.<br/><br/>"I guess . . . out here, you have to rely on faith." He said, choosing his words as carefully as a tightrope-walker chooses their steps.<br/><br/>"In the state the universe is in, what with the troubles assailing humanity at every turn, faith is a big issue. To cope with it all . . . you might find yourself a radical extremist, preaching Imperial dogma to anybody who'll listen to you. You might find yourself like I have - jaded and hesitant, having seen much to refute the Emperor's graces, and just as much to support it, and yet still finding the resolve to remain loyal . . . or, at least, willfully ignorant. You might be scarred by what you see, and end your life a burned-out and bitter cynic, who has lost faith in everything around them. It's all up to discipline, fortitude, personality . . . everything that makes a person will be tested, and how you handle it is a direct reflection on you, and on how faith shapes you. I hope that makes some sort of sense to you."<br/><br/>Torin lifted his cup of recaff and took a sip, ignoring the fact that it was scaldingly hot, and fixed the Sister with a wary look. She was Adepta Sororitas - indoctrinated in Imperial teachings from a young age, taught to believe that the Emperor could do no wrong, and that all withered under Imperial might. But Torin . . . well, he knew better, and he knew that there was a good chance she'd be offended by his words. At very least, he expected her to be perplexed.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>