( Sylar tenses, holding his breath with that little hand squeeze, a natural reaction given what just transpired. He doesn't realize he's still holding the shaky exhalation escapes his lips. Mohinder's voice right in his ear and suddenly past and present are colliding in his mind. "It's going to hurt" becomes "We're going to test everything" and that should be terrifying, but it's exhilarating, a thrill of an entirely different sort.

He'd heard the rest of what Mohinder had said, paying half-attention at least. While he recalls the words, he scrambles to recollect the shambles of his sanity. Count to twelve. Every(tick). Second(tock). Counts(tick). The inclination to kiss Mohinder right now is overwhelming. But there's still something in the back of his mind, not just his need to solve the puzzle, but an uncertain hesitation that is, normally, quite silent.

Sylar reaches up, cupping Mohinder's cheek with his other hand, and while his intent might've been to look into his eyes more closely, his thumb's still stroking those fine cheekbones, rough with stubble. He wants to kiss every spot his fingers touch. )

Mohinder. ( The word's a desperate grasp for salvation and damnation in equal measures. He clears his throat, licks at his lips, and when he speaks again his voice is steadier, more in control. ) Mohinder. You're... Are you certain you're not high? This excitement. Euphoria. You are not in any position to test anything right now.