Bricks in the Wall, Chapter 63: Lessons in Extortion
Title: Extortion
Characters: Sylar, Peter Petrelli
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Words: ~1,250
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Sylar tries to bend Peter to his will. Peter ends up bending Sylar instead.
Sylar pressed his lips together firmly, eyes narrowing as he squared up across from Peter. This was something that had been bothering him since Peter had arrived here. It was something Sylar was going to do something about. "I'm going to put a chalkboard out on the sidewalk and every morning when you leave, you will mark on it with a piece of chalk. You promised me you wouldn't leave me here. This will prove you're keeping your word." He crossed his arms like this was a foolproof argument. No more would he be racked by paranoid fear that he was alone again after being unable to find Peter for a day or two. He would trap Peter with his own words and put a stop to it.
Peter raised his brows, like 'seriously?' He rolled his eyes briefly. "I'm going to skip the part where you don't believe my promise because that's really insulting and I don't want to get in a fight. But there's something else going on. You're trying to control me by manipulating me. You know, that 'manipulation' you were so upset about other people doing to you?" Peter reminded him tauntingly. "You're trying to extort me just like they did to you to get me to do what you want. Well," Peter pointed vaguely in Sylar's direction, "I've got an extortion right back at you. You ask me to give you some sign I'm still around every day, and I'll do it."
Sylar froze, staring at him. Was it that easy? After a few seconds and a slow blink, he said merely, "Okay."
A few beats passed. Peter, watching him levelly, said, "Ask."
That was when Sylar's facade crumpled a little as the realization that Peter was serious, and seriously was demanding Sylar ask, perhaps beg him, to do something rather than tell or demand, sunk in. It wasn't that easy after all. Sylar sputtered in indignation. "You want me to actually put into words ..." He made a sweeping hand gesture that started strong, then became weak as he imagined trying to say that to Peter. He didn't ask anyone for anything. He was Sylar! He was powerful. He was special.
"Yeah," Peter said in agreement. "I want you to actually put it into words. You put your demand into words. Now put it into words as a request."
Sylar drew himself up as tall as he could manage, even though the chance that bluster would help him was low. "It doesn't make any difference! You already said you'd do it!"
"No, I said I'd do it if you asked." Peter was starting to really enjoy this, a lot more than he would have had Sylar just rolled his eyes and pronounced the necessary syllables without a problem.
"But you're going to do it," Sylar said with a tone of hurt, possibly betrayal, in his voice. "Why does it matter what I say? The whole definition of a request is that you might not do it - you're not required to. You might back out."
"That's twice now you've called me a liar in this conversation," Peter observed drily.
Sylar frowned at him as though Peter was being exceptionally rude to point that out. "If you're not going to back out, then why do you want me to say that?"
"You need the practice."
"What?"
Peter huffed. "When you want something from me, I want you to ask. I want you to know that you can ask. I don't want you sitting around thinking of how you can blackmail me into things. Ask me. No plots, no hidden agendas." Peter shook his head. "Don't be that person you hate so much, Sylar, who manipulates people into doing their dirty work for them. Instead, tell me why you want something. Tell me why it makes a difference to you. Lead me instead of shoving from behind."
Sylar stared at him for several long moments as he digested the words, then swallowed slowly. With a steady inhalation and exhalation, he intoned carefully, "Peter. Please ..." He hesitated, because the chalkboard really wasn't necessary. What he wanted was an indication that Peter hadn't left him. "Leave a sign, or a note or something, when you've gone out so I know where … so I know you're still around." He swallowed again, looking down and thinking that Peter was right in a way - he hadn't given nearly as much thought to what it was he wanted as he had to how to corner Peter into giving it to him.
"How about we put up a whiteboard in the rec room and I'll write a note on it when I'm going out?" Peter still wasn't happy about being made to answer as to his location, but it was a lot easier to get his agreement when he knew what it was that mattered to someone, rather than being given a random demand for obedience.
Sylar gave a broken, clumsy nod, not sure about this whole negotiation process. He'd never done it before. It was so much easier to fling someone against the wall with telekinesis and force what he wanted out of them, or merely take it from them. But he didn't have that as a tool here and besides, people tended to fear and hate him after he did that - even if the person he did it to was dead, others made things difficult for him because of it. "Maybe, um, putting it in the lobby would be better?"
"Like a marquee?"
Sylar's brows pulled together. A marquee didn't fit what they were talking about. "Outside? Over the door?"
"Yeah," Peter shrugged. "I could put it outside, but I just meant one of those signs that stand in hotel lobbies and say 'Welcome Whoever'." He gestured, indicating a four foot sign and moving his hands in a square display. Then he had another idea. "Or maybe one of those A-frame signs they have outside of restaurants sometimes. They write and erase on those all the time."
"That would be fine," Sylar said, still feeling out of his depth. He was more than a little weirded out that Peter was actually helping problem-solve for him. He wondered if he needed to make a mental note to go over Peter's deficient vocabulary in future, because that wasn't a marquee at all - it was a pedestal sign or a message board. The 'A-frame sign' was called a sandwich board. Would pointing that out be rude, or helpful? If they were going to talk things out, then what was appropriate? He had no idea how to navigate these unfamiliar waters.
"Okay," Peter nodded. "I'll look around this afternoon and find something. We can talk about it again tonight." He paused, looking at Sylar penetratingly. "Do you believe me?"
It would only be a few hours until it was proven whether or not Peter came back with a sign. That timeframe wasn't at all the anxiety-provoking uncertain forever of never knowing when Peter would or wouldn't stick around. Sylar could deal with a few hours, or even a day, which was why he wanted the sign - so that he wouldn't go days and days without knowing. "Yes."
"Good," Peter said. Hearing that, by itself, made it worth it for him.
Title: Lessons Learned
Characters: Sylar, Peter Petrelli
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Words: ~450
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Sylar tries to teach Peter what a marquee is. Peter tries to teach Sylar how to teach him.
Notes: This is straight EQ vs IQ.
"A marquee is a sign up on a wall, advertising a movie or other event."
Peter looked at Sylar blankly from over his lunch bowl of tomato soup with sour cream. "Uh-huh?"
Sylar exhaled as he sat down with his own bowl, plain. An explanation was in order. "You used it incorrectly earlier. What you were describing as a sign in a hotel lobby is just a display sign. A marquee is different."
Peter blinked at him. "Okay."
Sylar wondered if Peter was getting it. "So you understand?"
"They're both signs, right?"
Obviously, he wasn't. "Yes, but different kinds. If you'd just said signs, you would have been right. A marquee wouldn't have been any help for what we were talking about." Well, he supposed it would have helped if Peter were willing to install one, then climb up on a ladder whenever he was going to be gone for the day and change the display, maybe even coming up with creative ways to say he was gone, like riffing off movie titles or something like that. But that seemed unlikely. He pulled over the sleeve of saltines and put six of them into his soup.
"Okay." Peter nodded like it was settled. He went back to whatever it was he was doing with the sour cream dollop in his soup. He wasn't exactly stirring it, but it was more like he was trying to carve little bits out of it with his spoon.
Sylar watched for a moment, then asked, "You understand, right?"
"I understand it's important to you. I'll get a display sign from that hotel we walked past last week. I think I remember seeing one there."
Sylar's brows rose slightly, impressed. Peter didn't even sound miffed at being corrected. "You're easier to teach than I expected."
Peter grimaced. "You're not 'teaching' me anything, Sylar. You're telling me what's important to you and I'm respecting that."
Sylar paused, thinking over his own educational experiences and what he knew of Peter's. He didn't see Peter's point, aside from reflexive defiance (which he knew Peter had in spades). But he liked the idea of being respected. "What's the difference?"
"One is you trying to push something on me because you want me to know it for your benefit and do it on command. The other is me deciding you have a point and I'm okay with learning things that let me help you out."
Sylar … didn't get it. He knew he was being complimented; he just couldn't see what the distinction was. He nodded like he did, though, and quit while he was ahead.