I don't know, that first meeting of Mohinder trying to warn Nathan just stuck with me. So here's 150 words.
Strength
What a royal bloody jackass, Mohinder thought as he slammed his apartment door behind him. Of course, it hadn’t helped that he’d acted like a bleeding lunatic, either, spouting off prophecies like things like this happened every day.
He paced the small apartment in agitation, hand running through dark locks over and over like oars through waves at night.
The man didn’t want his help. Or didn’t believe, just as he hadn’t. Well, the congressman-to-be could deny it right up until he was taken out. Nathan Petrelli was going to get his arrogant, calculating ass killed and there was nothing Mohinder could do to prevent it, it seemed.
There also seemed to be nothing Mohinder could do about replaying the carefully closed off curiosity he’d seen sparking in Nathan’s eyes when he’d started talking. Part of Mohinder couldn’t help wondering what else could spark in those dangerously intelligent eyes.
The next prompt is Mask
A/N: Still just playing around in the sandbox; not up for grabs