( Sylar barely has time to appreciate the fact Mohinder reflexively clung to him before he's crying out. It's more in surprise than pain, and soon he's pressing his lips together quickly and groaning beneath them, grimacing. He knows you're not supposed to startle a person coming out of a seizure, but also, Jesus pole-dancing Christ. There's no warning for what to do when the person you're helping breaks several bones; or at least, none in the books he read.
He wrests his hand from Mohinder's, holding it steady above his supine friend. For what feels like too long, he breathes sharply between clenched teeth, then a sigh of relief when the healing finally kicks. There's some hesitation where he very clearly wants to hold Mohinder's hand again, but instead, settles for resting it idly on his side. )
You're damn lucky I can heal now. ( His irritation is more for the sudden pain than the man who inflicted it. That fades quickly into concern. ) How're you feeling, Mohinder?
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He wrests his hand from Mohinder's, holding it steady above his supine friend. For what feels like too long, he breathes sharply between clenched teeth, then a sigh of relief when the healing finally kicks. There's some hesitation where he very clearly wants to hold Mohinder's hand again, but instead, settles for resting it idly on his side. )
You're damn lucky I can heal now. ( His irritation is more for the sudden pain than the man who inflicted it. That fades quickly into concern. ) How're you feeling, Mohinder?