Sylar

He could hear them moving down the hallway. Not that the Haitian was ever particularly loud, not much of a talker and quite possibly better at the whole stealth game than he was, but Elle was making a show of things, babbling loudly to him, her voice echoing down the corridor as they moved towards him.

Any other time, he supposed it might have made a guy suspicious -- why talk so loud if you weren't trying to signal someone else you were on the way? -- but he thought it worked rather well here. Elle was the hysterical near-widow, after all, and fear or worry or whatever stew of emotions she was supposed to be marinating in had a tendency to change the quality of one's voice. He'd heard it enough times when one of his victims bothered trying to beg him for mercy.

Dimly amused, he turned his chair away from the door and sunk down in it, stretching out until he was sure his head couldn't be seen over the top of the leather. The door swung open just seconds later.

( Elle cleared her throat. "Can you just wait here for a minute? I think I need something to drink." )


Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1225
Note: Elle is not_myfirstday and is used with love. The use of the Haitian is not directed at any specific journal.

Baileigh had told him to suck it up and get it over with. She'd been nicer than that, of course, but that had been the gist of things. That had been the hint everyone had been trying to give him over the course of the last few weeks--the one he'd been pointedly ignoring because, quite frankly, the answers he was likely to get scared the hell out of him. Not his mother, not the woman herself, but the answers. Funny, considering his life for the last two years had revolved around the need for answers and the want for power in equal part, but true nevertheless. Funny that he'd made up so many excuses as to why he hadn't gone to see his mother yet, not wanting to be called on it, when the people who had advised him to take care of it already knew that even he was capable of fear.

Regardless of reasons, fabricated or fact, however, he'd told Baileigh he'd get it over with and he meant to keep his word. He just needed as shower first, as he'd told her; if he was going to go see Angela Petrelli, he wanted to be presentable, at least. He needed to be clean and to shave, since he'd been sporting more than a five o'clock shadow for days now. Maybe, he thought as he opened the door to his apartment, he'd even give himself a haircut as he'd needed one for weeks, his hair having grown out long past the point where he could spike it.

Running his fingers through his hair thoughtfully, he sighed, closing the door behind him. When he turned back into the dark apartment, it was like hitting a brick wall.

Suddenly blind and deaf, somehow stripped of Mohinder's abilities and his own hearing, he flailed in the dark for a moment, gasping, before throwing out a hand to turn on one of the lights on the far side of his living room. It worked, though not because he willed it so--instead it was his mother that did the trick, flicking on the light from where she'd been seated in the chair beside it. He winced into the sudden light, briefly, and then he saw the source of his problems.

( Angela hadn't come alone; the Haitian was standing behind her, casting her in strange shadow. )


Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1695
Notes: Angela is mapetrelli and is all mine to use and abuse.