for the_muses_stage: wrecked
Feb. 28th, 2010 06:48 pmHe hadn't bothered to change back into the clothes he'd been wearing before he'd killed Jenny nor had he even gone to retrieve them. He'd thought about it briefly on his way back to the car, of course, knowing that changing his clothes would be the smart thing to do, lessening his risk of getting caught or having to explain things to Peter, but he found he really didn't care. He was in too good a mood, acquiring an ability of this magnitude leaving him near shivering with pleasure and certain that he couldn't be stopped.
So what if someone saw the blood that the browns of he uniform proudly displayed? Maybe he'd see if he couldn't make himself pyrokinetic -- he'd always wanted to be pyrokinetic -- and make them sorely regret seeing anything. Maybe he'd do something else to the same effect. Telepathy, the Haitian's ability, something. It didn't matter; he could do anything. He was sitting on a Goddamn gold mine, and while admittedly getting a new toy this way probably wouldn't be as satisfying as tearing through someone's skull like cheap wrapping paper, it didn't matter. Not right now, not while basking in the afterglow of a hunger sated.
And speaking of and in a mood to press his luck, he shifted slightly, his steps carrying him now to the diner he'd seen on the way from the motel rather than back to it immediately. His need for abilities might have fallen silent, but it occurred to him idly that he was still starving. He wanted breakfast -- waffles, maybe, and he'd sit in the booth, bathed in blood and eat them merrily, ignoring all the looks he was sure to get -- and he would damn well have it.
( Grinning, he pushed open the door and straightened a bit, drawing attention to himself, and moved to stand by the hostess stand, all but bouncing on his feet. )
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1029
Note: Follows this, this, this, and this.
So what if someone saw the blood that the browns of he uniform proudly displayed? Maybe he'd see if he couldn't make himself pyrokinetic -- he'd always wanted to be pyrokinetic -- and make them sorely regret seeing anything. Maybe he'd do something else to the same effect. Telepathy, the Haitian's ability, something. It didn't matter; he could do anything. He was sitting on a Goddamn gold mine, and while admittedly getting a new toy this way probably wouldn't be as satisfying as tearing through someone's skull like cheap wrapping paper, it didn't matter. Not right now, not while basking in the afterglow of a hunger sated.
And speaking of and in a mood to press his luck, he shifted slightly, his steps carrying him now to the diner he'd seen on the way from the motel rather than back to it immediately. His need for abilities might have fallen silent, but it occurred to him idly that he was still starving. He wanted breakfast -- waffles, maybe, and he'd sit in the booth, bathed in blood and eat them merrily, ignoring all the looks he was sure to get -- and he would damn well have it.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1029
Note: Follows this, this, this, and this.