A perfect copy of Sylar appeared from the living room and moved to sit down at the table, stretching out at it languidly as if he had just never gotten up from breakfast. The real killer didn't chance him so much as a look, however, knowing that his duplicate would know what to do, and followed Claire out into the garage, pausing as she did to eye the keys thoughtfully.

Yes, he wanted to drive, but he didn't know where their mark was. Claire did, and the sooner they could get there and get what the both needed, the sooner they could go find a grocery store to sell the lie. They couldn't come home empty-handed, after all, and so he shook his head, rounding the car to get into the passenger's seat. "You drive. Faster that way."