heroslayer | rp for girl_ofsecrets: can you teach me how to fight?

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rp for girl_ofsecrets: can you teach me how to fight?

Twenty years ago, the Chelsea Piers had been a disaster area of collapsing sea walls, half-destroyed warehouses, and rickety boardwalks. Ten years ago, the city of New York had restored the place to its former glory, in the wake of its failed demolition. And now? Well, it's not the best neighborhood in the world, bordered by the Meat Packing District, but for the purposes of this exercise, Sylar figures it suits. It gives him free reign to kill anyone who bothers them, without fear of guilt, after all, and well. There probably won't be anyone around in the first place; most people still avoid this section of town.

The corners of his mouth tugging upwards into a pleased, wicked smile, he meanders down the boardwalk, heading for a warehouse he knows to be abandoned. It looks relatively rickety, like it's going to fall into the bay at any given moment, but he knows better--it's held up to super powered spars before. Still, that doesn't stop him from pausing outside of it, once he reaches it, to give it a once over. Nor does it stop him from taking a look inside, just to make sure there aren't squatters hanging around.

Then, once he's satisfied, he moves to the center of the room, leaning against a crate, listening for his niece. And to his credit, he manages to stand still for all of a minute and a half before he gets restless enough to start considering very literally climbing the walls. Hopefully, Claire will show up soon.

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"Probably not." But he'd have survived being shot, if he let them hit home in the first place, and it had been a point of discussion as to whether or not he and Mohinder could dodge bullets, what with their reflexes. Either way, however, he shrugs, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, before, "Next time."

He shoots a glance at the door of the warehouse. "So. Ice cream?" He's lost most of his anger--his hunger--but what remains, he's sure the ice cream will finish. It's one of his comfort foods, after all.

She just nods, smiling because she had figured that shooting him wouldn't help his anger, it probably would have made things worse. She would have made sure that she shot him in the chest or well anywhere but the head. At least not the spot that she knew would kill him or herself, anyone with the ability that she had.

"Yes, ice cream." She nods, moving towards the door of the warehouse, "Know any good places nearby where we can get some?"

He thinks for a moment, silent as he follows her towards the door, and then, "There's a place in the Village that's not far from here." And in a better part of town than the Piers' other district neighbor.

"Let's head there then." She smiles at him, tucking some hair behind her ears before tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Feeling better for sure? We could have gone another round or two."

"Mostly," he answers, shrugging. He's still a little on edge, but he no longer feels like an addict in need of a hit, and since he lives most of his life balanced on that knife's edge, he feels he can cope. As long as no one tries getting under his skin over the course of the next few hours, anyway.

"The ice cream will help."

"That's because ice cream helps mostly everything." She chuckles softly as they walk along. She knows the days where she feels like her skin is crawling and moments where she is just so filled with emotion that she can't breath. She just needs to do something to make it all go away but she never talked about those moments. She wasn't sure if anyone would ever understand.

Sylar makes a small, amused noise, pushing past her to take up the lead, only to cast a glance back at her. "I take it ice cream's one of your comfort foods, too."

Claire steps to the side as he moved past her to take the lead and she glances at him with a little smile, "Besides cupcakes? Yes, pretty much. Isn't ice cream the comfort food for everyone?"

"I thought it was just me." Then again, he thinks, he doesn't know of a single ice cream place in New York that's only open for the summer, so maybe it's a New Yorker thing. Who knows? He doesn't--he just knows what works. "It's a tie between that, and soup."

"Chili is the other one." Claire nods her head, "Mom makes it for us, or would. It's good." She moves to walk beside him, on the inside so that he was the one closer to the street. "Hmm, I should make some chili." She nods thoughtfully as they continue to walk to the ice cream place. "What kind of ice cream do you like?"

"As boring as this is going to sound? Vanilla." He shrugs, listening to their footfalls for a moment, before casting her another glance, this one curious. "You?"

"Strawberry with sprinkles. Or chocolate chip cookie dough or mint chocolate." She starts and then she laughs, brushing some hair back from her face, "Okay, maybe just about any kind of ice cream could work."

He can't help but grin. "I'll have to remember that." Not that it's important, but since they're bonding now, he can at least keep it in mind.

"But seriously, cupcakes are still the best tactic." Claire smiles back at him, amused as she tried to keep in mind that ice cream would be good to cheer him up too.

Sylar nods, grin still in place, and focuses himself on leading the way, not sure what else can be said, at the moment. He stops short a moment later, however, smile fading as something occurs to him and he turns his attentions to her. "You grab your cell phone?"

Claire blinks a little, frowning as she turns around to look at him. "No, I forgot." She grumbles, turning back to look down the way that they had come. "I need to grab it." She shifts the strap onto her shoulder a little more before starting back towards the warehouse.

He rolls his eyes, amused, before turning on his heels to follow her. Better that he remembered now rather than later, he supposes, but he doesn't point this out. Instead, he offers, "It's not broken, you know. Your phone."

"Thank you for that." She glances over at him with a smile, "It's a pain to have to set up a new phone and remember all the numbers, plus some of the texts." She shakes her head as they hurry back to the warehouse.

When they get closer, she looks at him again, "Where did you send it flying?"

He can't exactly say he knows what that's like, since most of his cell phones in the past have been stolen, and the one he has right now, he's just started handing out the number for, so it's not like he knows what that's like. Still, however, he can at least feign sympathy, and as such he pops one shoulder in a little shrug, silent until she questions him.

"It should be by the door opposite the wall."

Claire nods her head as she moved to the door opposite the wall, looking for her phone with a little frown. Spotting it finally, she picks it up and checks to make sure that she had no missed calls. Once she was sure, she put her phone into her purse before moving back to him.

Pausing, she looks over at the mess of their fight, frowning a little, "We should get rid of those." It wouldn't be good to leave any trace of their fight or her blood.

He quirks an eyebrow. She's right, they should get rid of the evidence, but he's not sure how to do it without bringing the whole warehouse down, which, yes, might be therapeutic, but he likes this place. And if he does destroy it, where the hell are they supposed to go, if and when they want to do this again?

"Any suggestions as to how?"

Claire looks at him for a moment like waiting for him to make a suggestion considering he was the one with all the power and not her. Then she shrugs a little, "Uh, a small fire? Or hold them in her hand and just...fry them with Ted's power?" She tilts her head to the side with a little smile, "Or we throw it into the water? Something."

"Last thing we need are immortal rats in New York." She smirks a little, joking of course but you never did know.

"Throw them in the water," he repeats, around a small, amused smile. "Then we'll have immortal fish." Which is a hysterical thought, really--he's just solved the problems of small children with short-lived goldfish everywhere.

He pushes the idea away, however, taking a look around the room. "Start bringing them over to me." He'll get what he can, telekinetically.

Claire laughs, shaking her head as she looks at him, "Well, now I know what to do with the kitten I got for Adam." Yes, she had considered it once or twice but she didn't think that it would be a very good idea. No, probably shouldn't make the kitten immortal. "I'm kidding." She clarifies.

Nodding, she moves to start picking up pieces of bloody wood and bringing them over to him so that they can get rid of the evidence of their fight.

He laughs, too, rolling his eyes as he raises a hand to start collecting shards and a couple of the crates they fought with. The latter might be a bit of over-kill, really, but he figures it's better to be safe than sorry, and besides. If he puts the last of his need for violence into destroying things that need to be destroyed, he figures he'll be back at a hundred percent. Hopefully.

Setting his pile down in front of him, he holds his hands out in front of him, palms towards the debris. Then, with a particularly vicious face, gold light errupts from his hands, reducing the stack of shards and crates to a pile of smoking ash. He breathes, curling his fingers into fists, and then turns his attentions to Claire, raising his eyebrows at her, wordlessly.

rp for girl_ofsecrets: can you teach me how to fight?

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