Sylar made a soft amused noise at the back of his throat, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, slowly.
He'd read about her in history class, during his days as a school boy, of course, knew what a perceptive woman she'd been. How well read, how versatile--he'd even had the pleasure of seeing some of that, in the time he'd spent her, and yet still she amazed him. No one at home would have made that leap, or spit it out if they had, and yet her she was, putting that on the table as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And for not the first time, he found himself wondering if it was a cultural difference, something that people had shied away from over the course of centuries, or simply her.
Either way, however, it was enough to make him turn to face her in earnest. "You know how I feel, then," he murmured, canting his head to one side, studying her intently. "So why do you come to these things?"
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He'd read about her in history class, during his days as a school boy, of course, knew what a perceptive woman she'd been. How well read, how versatile--he'd even had the pleasure of seeing some of that, in the time he'd spent her, and yet still she amazed him. No one at home would have made that leap, or spit it out if they had, and yet her she was, putting that on the table as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And for not the first time, he found himself wondering if it was a cultural difference, something that people had shied away from over the course of centuries, or simply her.
Either way, however, it was enough to make him turn to face her in earnest. "You know how I feel, then," he murmured, canting his head to one side, studying her intently. "So why do you come to these things?"