With a mixture of curiosity and a slight grin, Fein shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes darting playfully across the faces of the Rebels gathered in the white room. He couldn't help but wonder what had sparked their fervent admiration and their insistence on calling him a god. Clearing his throat, he leaned casually against a nearby wall and addressed them in an informal tone.
"Alright, folks," Fein began, his voice laced with a touch of mischief, "let's get this straight. Why exactly do you all think I'm some kind of god? And why on earth would you want me as your supreme leader?"
