Sylar might've been hearing Claire's words, but he wasn't reacting much to them, instead staring at the movie screen in front of him and thinking a little harder on the info that she'd so graciously spilled for him. Speaking about her father and the Company in present tense, huh? Bennet must've still been working for them after all, at least in some capacity, which meant that either Mohinder's files had been designed to keep him out of the loop or Claire didn't come from the same point in time as Sylar did. Maybe from before Kirby Plaza? Or... maybe after. Claire was throwing around a lot more anger than fear, which meant long-term coping, which meant the passage of time.
Then again, there were other factors at play here, like Bennet being a conniving bastard and the times that Sylar had already encountered Claire around the Institute. The only way to know what was in her pretty head would be to prod deeper, trip a couple more triggers. Claire wasn't thinking straight right now; she was throwing Sylar's words back in his face, which meant that if he hit on the right topic, she'd babble on about it as if by command. The trick was to keep her here, keep her stupid, and keep her seeing red.
Given what he'd seen so far, he didn't think it'd be particularly hard.
"Shhhh," he hissed, pressing a finger to his lips. He glanced at her with exaggerated indignation and then gestured at the screen. "You're ruining the movie."
If she thought Sylar wanted her to shut up, she'd keep talking. If she thought she wasn't getting to him, she'd work at it more. Beautiful.
"Besides," he added nonchalantly, draping his arm back over the seat next to him and letting a arrogant smirk touch his lips. "We're the same, me and him. We... collect people, study them, find out how they work. And you. Well..."
He turned deliberately to face Claire, fixing his gaze on hers.
"You're his perfect little rat in his perfect little cage."
His eyes wandered almost leisurely to her forehead and brought a finger to his own, drawing a line across it.
"And I can't even imagine the things he's seen in that perfect little head."
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Then again, there were other factors at play here, like Bennet being a conniving bastard and the times that Sylar had already encountered Claire around the Institute. The only way to know what was in her pretty head would be to prod deeper, trip a couple more triggers. Claire wasn't thinking straight right now; she was throwing Sylar's words back in his face, which meant that if he hit on the right topic, she'd babble on about it as if by command. The trick was to keep her here, keep her stupid, and keep her seeing red.
Given what he'd seen so far, he didn't think it'd be particularly hard.
"Shhhh," he hissed, pressing a finger to his lips. He glanced at her with exaggerated indignation and then gestured at the screen. "You're ruining the movie."
If she thought Sylar wanted her to shut up, she'd keep talking. If she thought she wasn't getting to him, she'd work at it more. Beautiful.
"Besides," he added nonchalantly, draping his arm back over the seat next to him and letting a arrogant smirk touch his lips. "We're the same, me and him. We... collect people, study them, find out how they work. And you. Well..."
He turned deliberately to face Claire, fixing his gaze on hers.
"You're his perfect little rat in his perfect little cage."
His eyes wandered almost leisurely to her forehead and brought a finger to his own, drawing a line across it.
"And I can't even imagine the things he's seen in that perfect little head."