( Sylar is completely stunned into silence, his brain working (overtime, in fact, trying to figure things out) but no words form in his throat. That smile of unburdened joy was like an arrow right to his heart; the last time he'd witnessed that was when 'Zane' showed off his powers. Suddenly they hadn't been scientist and (unknown) serial killer. They were like children delighting in the destruction of whatever 'Zane' could get his hands on.
Ever since his identity had been revealed, Mohinder didn't look at him with smiles any more. Only hate, fear, disgust, flinching away from his touch. It'd been too late to talk about feelings or wants and so he'd burned that away, turned into to rage and violence. He'd bloodied Mohinder's lips like a parody of 'ravis me red' and pined him to the ceiling when, in all actuality, he'd wanted to pin him to the cheap apartment mattress and hear that voice speak only through begging.
And now Mohinder was touching his hand. No fear, no flinching, only the passion for puzzles burning in his eyes. Sylar permits the exploratory touch, of course he does. He can't prevent the way his breath hitches, soft thoughtful noises escaping from parted lips. )
Uh-hm. Yes. You did but it's... fine...
( Clearly distracted, downright mystified, with words proving difficult. He shifts his hand within that grasp, interweaving their fingers, ever the bratty difficult 'patient', but now wanting more of that touch, however he's able. His thoughts become more focused, something that scientific glee returning. )
Ah, so. Super strength, huh? Gonna hulk out on me?
no subject
Ever since his identity had been revealed, Mohinder didn't look at him with smiles any more. Only hate, fear, disgust, flinching away from his touch. It'd been too late to talk about feelings or wants and so he'd burned that away, turned into to rage and violence. He'd bloodied Mohinder's lips like a parody of 'ravis me red' and pined him to the ceiling when, in all actuality, he'd wanted to pin him to the cheap apartment mattress and hear that voice speak only through begging.
And now Mohinder was touching his hand. No fear, no flinching, only the passion for puzzles burning in his eyes. Sylar permits the exploratory touch, of course he does. He can't prevent the way his breath hitches, soft thoughtful noises escaping from parted lips. )
Uh-hm. Yes. You did but it's... fine...
( Clearly distracted, downright mystified, with words proving difficult. He shifts his hand within that grasp, interweaving their fingers, ever the bratty difficult 'patient', but now wanting more of that touch, however he's able. His thoughts become more focused, something that scientific glee returning. )
Ah, so. Super strength, huh? Gonna hulk out on me?