Brushing back hair that was still damp from his own shower, Peter couldn't stop himself from looking for his brother yet again when he entered the Sun Room. He hadn't seen the man in the showers, so he'd thought that maybe he had managed to opt out of taking one somehow (not that he had any idea as to why Nathan would want to do something like that, since he usually liked to look presentable).
It didn't take long to confirm that Nathan wasn't there, so Peter then searched for someone else to sit with and spotted another familiar (and yet not nearly as welcome) face. A face, he realized once he got a closer glance, that had a few bandages slapped on it. It didn't stop there, either. Sylar's arm was in a sling, and there was even a wheelchair next to the couch where he was seated, indicating that one or both of his legs were injured as well. These were all things that Peter soaked in due to his nurse training, but he had no intention of helping the man.
Still, seeing Sylar during the day was extremely rare (the psychopath was way too good at hiding), and finding him injured was even rarer. Peter couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his enemy. His first thought was that Sylar had been victim to the same things that he and Claire had, but he quickly dropped that idea. For one thing, all those wounds had healed; for another, Peter knew that Sylar didn't have a single death that he felt guilty about.
No, he was the one that caused other people to feel trauma. Peter had seen, even through the pain of his own fatal wounds, the cut that had seared across Claire's forehead.
But that was when Peter remembered. Tyki had called Sylar out on the bulletin yesterday -- was he the one responsible? Peter found that hard to believe, but maybe he was giving Tyki too much credit.
There was only one way to find out -- besides, he needed to make it clear that Sylar was not to get within ten feet of Claire again. Peter stalked over to the couch where the killer was sitting, pausing in front of it as he stared down at him. He didn't want to admit it, but it was satisfying to see someone who was usually so dangerous reduced to this.
"Looks like you lost," he remarked, arms folded over his chest.
no subject
Brushing back hair that was still damp from his own shower, Peter couldn't stop himself from looking for his brother yet again when he entered the Sun Room. He hadn't seen the man in the showers, so he'd thought that maybe he had managed to opt out of taking one somehow (not that he had any idea as to why Nathan would want to do something like that, since he usually liked to look presentable).
It didn't take long to confirm that Nathan wasn't there, so Peter then searched for someone else to sit with and spotted another familiar (and yet not nearly as welcome) face. A face, he realized once he got a closer glance, that had a few bandages slapped on it. It didn't stop there, either. Sylar's arm was in a sling, and there was even a wheelchair next to the couch where he was seated, indicating that one or both of his legs were injured as well. These were all things that Peter soaked in due to his nurse training, but he had no intention of helping the man.
Still, seeing Sylar during the day was extremely rare (the psychopath was way too good at hiding), and finding him injured was even rarer. Peter couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his enemy. His first thought was that Sylar had been victim to the same things that he and Claire had, but he quickly dropped that idea. For one thing, all those wounds had healed; for another, Peter knew that Sylar didn't have a single death that he felt guilty about.
No, he was the one that caused other people to feel trauma. Peter had seen, even through the pain of his own fatal wounds, the cut that had seared across Claire's forehead.
But that was when Peter remembered. Tyki had called Sylar out on the bulletin yesterday -- was he the one responsible? Peter found that hard to believe, but maybe he was giving Tyki too much credit.
There was only one way to find out -- besides, he needed to make it clear that Sylar was not to get within ten feet of Claire again. Peter stalked over to the couch where the killer was sitting, pausing in front of it as he stared down at him. He didn't want to admit it, but it was satisfying to see someone who was usually so dangerous reduced to this.
"Looks like you lost," he remarked, arms folded over his chest.