Even in the darkness, the twitch in Sylar's expression didn't go missed by Claire. Maybe because she was so hyper-fixated on trying to take in every bit of advantageous observation she could that her nails were digging into her sweating palms, breaking skin.
It'd probably be painful for anyone but her, but Little Miss Miracle Gro didn't even notice.
Instead, she noticed that he seemed to ease into the chair, and she noticed the way he seemed to engulf the chairs around him as his own territory. Great. No one to sit between them and diffuse the situation. Where was Peter? But, no. She had to force herself to stop hoping that he'd come help her. She didn't need him to come help her, she was strong enough to do it on her own. That's what she was preaching to Sylar, wasn't it?
As he spoke, she only found herself more and more enraged -- the fact that he had allies alone was disconcerting. How many? Why? -- until … Her father? He'd been in the Institute. A fact that Peter had somehow neglected to mention during their talk, and here Sylar was passing it out casually.
Maybe he didn't realize yet that she'd forgotten the time she'd spent here. That alone was something to even the playing field, wasn't it? She fought hard to keep the surprise out of her expression and instead focused on sneering in his general direction, shoulders tensing as the beast on the screen roared. Claire swallowed hard. He thought he had her cornered. She'd prove it was just the other way around.
Sylar wasn't the hunter here. Not anymore.
"Do I look like a nurse?" She hissed, leaving off the much desired or his babysitter line off in the interests of keeping her emotional response to a minimum. Sylar had caught a good enough glimpse of her feelings on her father during the Canfield debacle, she didn't need to give him a one-sided encore. "I haven't seen him." Not yet. But, it was better to let him assume that sentence ended in 'not since …' "I'm sure he'll be touched to hear you're keeping tabs on him." Touched? Not really. Concerned. Horrified. Then again, it went both ways, so Noah probably wouldn't even be surprised.
In her mind, she could hear him trying to convince Canfield to kill Sylar. To force him into the vortex.
Yeah. He probably wouldn't be surprised in the slightest that it went both ways, she reminded herself bitterly. Again, she was finding herself wishing she had some sharp implement on her. It just didn't feel right, being this close to Sylar and not having something to hurt him with. It did a good job of reminding her just why she was going to need to go hunting for a real weapon tonight. As if she could forget.
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It'd probably be painful for anyone but her, but Little Miss Miracle Gro didn't even notice.
Instead, she noticed that he seemed to ease into the chair, and she noticed the way he seemed to engulf the chairs around him as his own territory. Great. No one to sit between them and diffuse the situation. Where was Peter? But, no. She had to force herself to stop hoping that he'd come help her. She didn't need him to come help her, she was strong enough to do it on her own. That's what she was preaching to Sylar, wasn't it?
As he spoke, she only found herself more and more enraged -- the fact that he had allies alone was disconcerting. How many? Why? -- until … Her father? He'd been in the Institute. A fact that Peter had somehow neglected to mention during their talk, and here Sylar was passing it out casually.
Maybe he didn't realize yet that she'd forgotten the time she'd spent here. That alone was something to even the playing field, wasn't it? She fought hard to keep the surprise out of her expression and instead focused on sneering in his general direction, shoulders tensing as the beast on the screen roared. Claire swallowed hard. He thought he had her cornered. She'd prove it was just the other way around.
Sylar wasn't the hunter here. Not anymore.
"Do I look like a nurse?" She hissed, leaving off the much desired or his babysitter line off in the interests of keeping her emotional response to a minimum. Sylar had caught a good enough glimpse of her feelings on her father during the Canfield debacle, she didn't need to give him a one-sided encore. "I haven't seen him." Not yet. But, it was better to let him assume that sentence ended in 'not since …' "I'm sure he'll be touched to hear you're keeping tabs on him." Touched? Not really. Concerned. Horrified. Then again, it went both ways, so Noah probably wouldn't even be surprised.
In her mind, she could hear him trying to convince Canfield to kill Sylar. To force him into the vortex.
Yeah. He probably wouldn't be surprised in the slightest that it went both ways, she reminded herself bitterly. Again, she was finding herself wishing she had some sharp implement on her. It just didn't feel right, being this close to Sylar and not having something to hurt him with. It did a good job of reminding her just why she was going to need to go hunting for a real weapon tonight. As if she could forget.