but I know I'll go crazy if I don't go crazy tonight [open like burning]

[notenlightened]

10am: Dani Reese is sitting in a booth at The Kitchen Table, an untouched cup of coffee in front of her. Despite desperately needing the caffeine, her thoughts are way too full of 'how the hell are we getting out of here?' at the moment. Crews is - well, last she checked, he was still in bed. She pauses in her thought process and briefly debates

Comments

[elashte]

Elashte still does keep psychic tabs on the Main Gauche residents. Practically, it's a good idea for security; personally, it helps to ease the itch in the back of his mind that still goads him to use those Neqa'el powers, act as a demon, do something...

He can control them. He wouldn't have survived this long if he couldn't. He just... sates the hunger, a little.

It would seem he and Sylar have something in common.

In any case, Sylar is... dangerous, and that makes him interesting. So Elashte will approach him, all friendly professionalism, and offer a hand.

"You're a new face, if I'm not mistaken," he says, and introduces himself. "Elashte. Proprietor of these apartments."

[technicallykill]

It would seem that this man has some kind of power. Sylar can sense it coming off him in waves, even before he offers a hand to him, even before he himself takes the hand offered in his own for a firm shake that conveys as much of his own ability.

"I admit to being curious as to who owned this place," he replies. "And my name - well, it's a complicated subject, but you'll likely hear others refer to me as Sylar on most days."

[elashte]

"I sometimes wonder if names were ever meant to be simple," Elashte says. His handshake is also firm, and the heat radiating from his skin makes it more than clear that he's a demon. This close, those old Poludnica senses are practically tingling, demanding to be let into this man's mind, to find the threads and mechanics, see how it functions on a cognitive level.

He's not going to. He has to maintain some sense of moral accountability, after all.

"I hope you're finding the facilities comfortable," he says. "You've caught us in a good season, at least." He gestures to the courtyard, its oxygen-farm garden in pleasant summer glory.

[technicallykill]

"Comfortable," Sylar echoes. "Of course. Though I am still attempting to get used to the concept of staying in one place for an extended period of time."

Men such as he aren't very prone to settling down for the long term of things, and though he has been able to quell the urges for now, it's only a matter of time before they come back up, stronger than ever.

[elashte]

Elashte answers with a low chuckle. "Understandable. A good deal of my own life was spent wandering. It was... very strange, adapting from that at first." He makes an open gesture. "The Rift delights in upsetting one's notions of convention."

And ruining any and all plans, inverting local politics, driving locals mad...

[technicallykill]

"One would almost think it has a unique sense of humor," Sylar points out.

There's a twisted quality in the smile that follows.