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Even after trying to insert himself into one of Suresh's dreams and finding out that Matt had been telling the truth, that he really had locked him out of the proverbial building in the back of his mind containing his telepathy, Sylar hadn't been particularly afraid. Bothered, yes -- as much as he claimed Matt was nothing more than a bad Christmas memory now, he liked being able to sift through the Indian's thoughts whenever he damn well pleased, and not being able to compel the army stationed at the edges of the city was certainly going to make their escape more difficult, though not impossible -- but not afraid. So the remains of Matt's personality had congealed into something tangible in his head? So what? It wasn't as though Sergeant Tubberson could actually carry through with his threat to steal his body out from under him and his inability to use his telepathy was only an annoying setback. Enough time spent battering himself against the back doors of his own brain, and he'd manage to break through whatever blocks Matt had put it place. It was the nature of his ability to adapt around whatever stood in his way. It was only a matter of time.
It's been three days since then, and he's since revised his opinion.
Matt's started following him out of the dreams now, a physical presence in the room, if only to him. Sometimes, he just sits and watches, judging him or looking for an opening for whatever the next step in his plan is. Other times, he throws his two cents into whatever he's doing or whatever conversation he happens to be having with Mohinder at the time. For the most part, Sylar's managed to ignore him, much to Matt's dismay, thankfully, but he's losing his patience and he's losing ground. After three days of putting up with Parkman's near-constant presence, it's becoming a struggle not to snap at him, to buy himself five minutes of silence, and Matt must know it, because if anything, he's gotten chattier over the course of the last few hours.
If the former cop wasn't already technically dead, he'd kill him. As it is, he just mutters something under his breath, rubbing at one corner of his eye, then glances back at Mohinder to make sure he didn't follow that. Luckily, the geneticist seems oblivious, too busy trying to get their things in order -- they're getting out of this city, with or without Matt's telepathy working for him, and a part of him wonders if that's his decision or Matt's -- and Sylar turns back to his own bag, stuffing clothing into it viciously and haphazardly, not able to focus long enough to take the time to fold anything as is the norm for him. Parkman prattling away still doesn't help.
It's been three days since then, and he's since revised his opinion.
Matt's started following him out of the dreams now, a physical presence in the room, if only to him. Sometimes, he just sits and watches, judging him or looking for an opening for whatever the next step in his plan is. Other times, he throws his two cents into whatever he's doing or whatever conversation he happens to be having with Mohinder at the time. For the most part, Sylar's managed to ignore him, much to Matt's dismay, thankfully, but he's losing his patience and he's losing ground. After three days of putting up with Parkman's near-constant presence, it's becoming a struggle not to snap at him, to buy himself five minutes of silence, and Matt must know it, because if anything, he's gotten chattier over the course of the last few hours.
If the former cop wasn't already technically dead, he'd kill him. As it is, he just mutters something under his breath, rubbing at one corner of his eye, then glances back at Mohinder to make sure he didn't follow that. Luckily, the geneticist seems oblivious, too busy trying to get their things in order -- they're getting out of this city, with or without Matt's telepathy working for him, and a part of him wonders if that's his decision or Matt's -- and Sylar turns back to his own bag, stuffing clothing into it viciously and haphazardly, not able to focus long enough to take the time to fold anything as is the norm for him. Parkman prattling away still doesn't help.