I ignore him and walk to the downed cameraman, bending to one knee and digging my fingers into his scalp as i dive into his twisted little mind in search of everything I can learn about these men I seek to supplant. I take my time, in no hurry to return my attention to Mr Sing, and desiring to be therough in my investigation, not only of relevent facts, but also small encounters, names and dates of seemingly little importance to him, those who have died and why, those that yet live, who buys and sells what, where, and when. For a moment I consider seeking his core, the youthful encounters that defined his world view, but for a man who ended up in such a sad place in life, I suspect such memories would be more painful then useful to me.
When I'm done I stand and return my attention to Mr Sing, carefully sifting through what I've learned before speaking.