Day 47: Greenhouse [4th Shift]

[mitase]

Entering the greenhouse was almost like coming home, and Hanatarou had been looking forward to this shift for that reason. Everywhere else in the building was strange and confusing (and often dangerous) but in here was the familiar scent of soil and sun-warmed plants with the musty sort of enclosed-space smell overlaying it. His expression turned

Comments

[7_to_midnight]

The meeting with Dr. Suresh hadn't given Sylar much to work with, but that in itself was something useful. Mohinder apparently knew even less about this place than Sylar did, and the fact that the staff would choose to assign a patient to someone they already knew was... surprising. Sylar had long ago realized that the real purpose of this place wasn't to 'rehabilitate' anyone, but that didn't make this break from their usual routine any less interesting. Or significant.

Unfortunately, Sylar had other things to take care of right now, and by 'things', he meant the pointy-toothed redhead who kept acting like they were going on a prom date instead of conspiring to bash in people's heads. Sure, the whole situation wasn't making Sylar feel like throttling him anymore, but it sure as hell wasn't helping. Maybe Grell was like this with everyone or maybe he really liked Sylar's 'anger' that much, but until Sylar figured it out, he couldn't be sure to respond to his advances. He didn't care about playing along with it if it could get him something he wanted, but he wasn't about to suck up to the bitch for no reason. So far, it seemed like the guise on the bulletin had gone over well with him - especially after last night's mess - so at least there was some predictability to his shtick.

Either that or Grell was just waiting chew him out in person. Either way, Sylar wasn't planning on letting this whole team-up fall by the wayside, not until he saw what Grell could do for him.

Sylar was gestured into the Greenhouse and his eyes immediately picked out a spot - there, in the corner, far enough to be seen by the nurses, but not heard. He picked up a pot and messed around with it, keeping his eyes on the door for a not-so-mousy man.

[ For Grell; limit: 2.]

[deadlyjuliet]

He'd enjoyed the meal for once - proper fish and chips always put him in a good mood. Maybe it wasn't the most elegant of meals, but he couldn't deny that his country had created something wholly satisfying by frying up a bit of fish and pairing it with potatoes. Well, the humans in his country. He'd always found it a bit odd that God had made death gods like humans, giving them the weaknesses of sleep and hunger, but he supposed he was grateful for it. An eternity without dreams, without the comfort of good food, would be terribly droll.

And speaking of good entertainment, Grell was led into the greenhouse and immediately surrounded by the scent of wet earth and the artificial scent of flowers blooming out of season. He took a deep breath in and sighed. So disappointing - nothing like the constantly blooming fields of Heaven. Still, this place had its own merit and Grell's eyes found Sylar sitting in the exact position he would have picked himself. Far out of the way, where others wouldn't be able to hear them - where they couldn't really see them either. Enough where the nurses could confirm that, yes, they were playing nice, but not enough to catch Grell dropping the act. The nurses and the patients would remain unaware so long as that robot brat didn't come in.

"Isn't this nice, Geoffrey? Plants are very calming. Do you have anywhere you'd like to sit?" His nurse was all smiles and pleasantries and Grell made sure to return them before shyly pointing off toward Sylar's direction under the pretense that he'd like to stay out of the way in case he made a mistake so he didn't disturb too many other people. His nurse let him leave with a tray of seedlings to potted and Grell made his way across the greenhouse, eyes glued to his tray like his life depended on it.

He knew Sylar was well aware of him, but he made no motion to acknowledge the man until he reached his seat across from him. He wouldn't drop the act until he was seated because he knew his ugly nurse was still watching him from behind. He could feel her eyes on the back of his head and it almost made him want to rip them out of her. "Would you mind terribly if I joined you, sir?"

[7_to_midnight]

And there he was. Sylar kept his eyes down as soon as he confirmed Grell was coming his way, not so much to keep Grell's ass covered but because he didn't want to give him the idea that he was overeager to talk. Either way, the bastard sure did keep his act up - more frequently and more intensely than Sylar could imagine doing. And, while the guise itself was hard to read, maybe his use of it gave something away. The only reason Grell would be so careful would be if there was something he was hiding or someone he was hiding from. This meant that Grell had a weakness, and Sylar needed to find out exactly what it was.

"Sure," he said in response to his question, flashing a toothy smile before looking back down at soil he was pouring into the planter. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched until Grell's nurse turned around and then glanced back towards him.

"So," he muttered, "who's the big act for?"

[deadlyjuliet]

"Thank you, sir." His nurse seemed pleased that he was interacting with someone he'd met before, trying to 'bridge ties' or some or busy-body term that he really cared little to think about. Setting his tray down, Grell took his seat and, once he knew the woman wasn't watching anymore, promptly pushed the seedlings and the disguise aside.

"Who?" he asked, his voice drawing out the vowels a little longer as he smiled brilliantly at Sylar. "Why, everyone. We're all players on the stage, isn't that right?"

With his back to the rest of the Greenhouse, Grell didn't have to worry about keeping his expressions bland like before. Reaching out, he ran his fingers along the edges of the planting tray. "Besides, playing nice with others earns points with the cat ladies and they're less likely to believe I had any part in any unpleasantness." He would hate to be sedated, after all. It took all the fun out of the day and the night. "But what of you, darling? No guises for our nasty guards? Or do you reserve those for the other patients in this place?"

[7_to_midnight]

Sylar responded to Grell's deflective "stage" comment with a forced smirk, glancing back down at his work station to pick up a trowel and pat it, slowly, against the top of his little soil pile. His torso still hurt from last night's attack and his shoulder still had stitches in it; he wasn't about to try anything fancy.

Of course, Grell seemed to have other ideas. Sylar's eyes narrowed as the other man's fingers began trailing the edges of his tray like there was something else he'd enjoy touching instead; Sylar was reminded faintly of his own skull examinations, though he didn't really want to know where the hell Grell's thoughts were.

Still, the man's next question was a fair one, and Sylar smirked down at his potting with a little more mirth. "I do what I need to. A 'Zach' for the staff, an 'Aura' for you, and a 'Sylar' for anyone with something I need."

He looked up and met Grell's gaze coolly.

"Got any recommendations?"

[deadlyjuliet]

Such a forced sense of pleasantry and friendliness. Grell's smile only widened at that, wondering just how uncomfortable he made Sylar sometimes. Was it his nature as a death god or was it more his personality? Maybe it was the idea that at any moment Grell could turn on him and drive that little trowel he was holding straight through his neck. Not that he would of course, but he could. Luxord had found that edge of danger fascinating before, but lately the man had been so distant and strange.

Bringing a well manicured nail to a stop on the corner of the tray, Grell's smile turned almost innocent as he considered Sylar's question. Zach was his 'real name,' Aura the name he used to contact Grell and Sylar the name he only gave to those of use. What sort of use? What sort of things did Sylar need and why? Grell could tell something was off about the man, something not entirely human, not entirely mortal, but with his powers limited as they were, he couldn't say what that something was or even if he was right. It was annoying not being able to just know things like he had before.

"Recommendations? Now that would depend on the clientele you're after and what sort of things you need," he said, flicking a small green leaf and sending it bobbing up and down as he returned Sylar's gaze evenly. "As for me, I'm merely trying to attract divine attention. Whether that means helping someone out here or killing too many people to be ignored, I care not. God can raze this asylum to the ground and strike down everyone within its walls as long as I return to my rightful place."

[7_to_midnight]

Grell was finally being straightforward, and Sylar found himself glad for it. Sure, he usually made a favorite pastime out of navigating around people and all their little deceptions and idiosyncrasies, but that didn't really apply when he was at a severe disadvantage and the person in question might be his only way out of it. Right now, Grell seemed to be putting his cards down on the table, though whether or not he had an ace hidden up his sleeve was yet to be seen. There wasn't much Sylar could do to find out right now, though, so it'd probably be his best bet to reveal his own basic intentions.

"Abilities," he said smoothly, smiling at Grell as his hand continued working with the trowel. "That's what I'm after. Making ice with bare hands, moving objects with the mind, hearing the smallest noise for a mile around..."

He brought his free hand to his head, tapping lightly against his temple. "You can find all of those things right here, but you need to know how to look. I do know. And..."

He jammed the trowel into the pot's bed of soil, sending it in up to the handle. He glanced down at it and then back up to Grell, grinning.

"...You could say I'm quite the connoisseur."