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girl_ofsecrets(Based on this picture.)
They didn't talk about it.
She knew that he was itching to, she could tell that the comments were right there on the tip of his tongue but he seemed to be holding back. That was just fine with her because she didn't know how to explain what was going on, it didn't make sense to her. It was Sylar! She shouldn't have the urges that she did when she was around him and it annoyed her because he knew.
So she didn't look at him as she sat on the hood of the car in the parking lot of some small diner, carefully looking elsewhere as she bit into a hot dog that he had brought her. She still had no idea where they were going and she was beginning to think that he didn't either.
Where she was avoiding looking at him, however, he hadn't taken his eyes off of her, though probably not for the reasons she thought. Knowing her, she was likely waiting for some kind of lewd statement--he'd been on the verge of one, since they'd crossed state lines in Indiana, if only because her knew it would get under her skin, if he was being honest--but at the moment it was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he was somewhere else as he picked at his own hamburger. Where somewhere else was, he couldn't say, but it had nothing to do with the million and one comments he could have made about her eating that hot dog.
Claire paused in her eating, the tip of her tongue peeking out to lick at a little bit of ketchup at the corner of her mouth and then she used a finger to wipe it away. Finally she dared a glance at him as she sucked the ketchup from the tip of her finger, finding his eyes on her just like they had been for awhile now. She was about to snap in annoyance but she could tell, by the look in his eyes, he was somewhere else at the moment. So she arched a brow, tilting her head, "Sylar?" She asked softly.
He made a soft noise, acknowledging the fact that he'd heard her call his name, but other than that, he said nothing.
She looked at him for a moment and then shrugged because she wasn't going to push him to talk to her. So she took another bite of the hot dog, trying to ignore the fact that he was staring at her. She looked away from him, watching the road as she chewed silently.
The killer lapsed back into complete silence, still studying her. Then, after a moment more and at great lengths, he sighed, looked away, and ventured, "Why?" Not exactly the most thorough of questions, but well, there was a shortage of things that could have prompted that single word, so it wouldn't have taken a rocket scientist.
Claire wasn't really surprised at the question but rather that it had taken him a few days to ask her. She had been asking herself the same question every day and always when she woke up trapped under one of his limbs. But still, she tilted her head, "Why what?" She asked casually.
( He sighed, narrowly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Take a stab in the dark." )
They didn't talk about it.
She knew that he was itching to, she could tell that the comments were right there on the tip of his tongue but he seemed to be holding back. That was just fine with her because she didn't know how to explain what was going on, it didn't make sense to her. It was Sylar! She shouldn't have the urges that she did when she was around him and it annoyed her because he knew.
So she didn't look at him as she sat on the hood of the car in the parking lot of some small diner, carefully looking elsewhere as she bit into a hot dog that he had brought her. She still had no idea where they were going and she was beginning to think that he didn't either.
Where she was avoiding looking at him, however, he hadn't taken his eyes off of her, though probably not for the reasons she thought. Knowing her, she was likely waiting for some kind of lewd statement--he'd been on the verge of one, since they'd crossed state lines in Indiana, if only because her knew it would get under her skin, if he was being honest--but at the moment it was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he was somewhere else as he picked at his own hamburger. Where somewhere else was, he couldn't say, but it had nothing to do with the million and one comments he could have made about her eating that hot dog.
Claire paused in her eating, the tip of her tongue peeking out to lick at a little bit of ketchup at the corner of her mouth and then she used a finger to wipe it away. Finally she dared a glance at him as she sucked the ketchup from the tip of her finger, finding his eyes on her just like they had been for awhile now. She was about to snap in annoyance but she could tell, by the look in his eyes, he was somewhere else at the moment. So she arched a brow, tilting her head, "Sylar?" She asked softly.
He made a soft noise, acknowledging the fact that he'd heard her call his name, but other than that, he said nothing.
She looked at him for a moment and then shrugged because she wasn't going to push him to talk to her. So she took another bite of the hot dog, trying to ignore the fact that he was staring at her. She looked away from him, watching the road as she chewed silently.
The killer lapsed back into complete silence, still studying her. Then, after a moment more and at great lengths, he sighed, looked away, and ventured, "Why?" Not exactly the most thorough of questions, but well, there was a shortage of things that could have prompted that single word, so it wouldn't have taken a rocket scientist.
Claire wasn't really surprised at the question but rather that it had taken him a few days to ask her. She had been asking herself the same question every day and always when she woke up trapped under one of his limbs. But still, she tilted her head, "Why what?" She asked casually.
( He sighed, narrowly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Take a stab in the dark." )
