There's a sound at the door, as of a key being inserted into a (slightly broken - you're surprised?) lock.
"I'm back," says Darla sunnily, bustling her way into the house burdened by a multitude of groceries.
She intended to talk to Gabe about Chandra. Really she did. It just slipped her mind repeatedly. Things do that, on occasion.
It's the work of about thirty seconds to wrestle her collection of bags down the hall to the kitchen and start putting things away, a task which she accomplishes quickly and efficiently.
Just as a break from trudging through clock after clock (they're still fixed superbly, and the speed can't be faulted, but.), he's going to tread some new ground and offer a hand in the kitchen. Who are you and what have you done with the real Sabe?!
She flashes him a slightly surprised but very genuine grin as she busily puts things away. Flour (Darla does love her muffins), milk, bread, eggs, bagels... a veritable cornucopia of Really Ordinary Food. Not for Darla Wood the mysteries of haute cuisine. If it takes less than half an hour to prepare and tastes decent, she's on it.
Sylar's not in any position to judge: to his eternal shame, he practically lives off anything that can be picked up and either microwaved or eaten as is. Fortunately for his health, he's a fruit-loving kind of guy.
The grin is replied to with a smaller, rather less radient, rather less grinny version. Darla may have noticed him being more subdued than usual today. If she's mentioned it, though, she won't have gotten any answer beyond just having had a long and tiring week.
Milk in the fridge, flour on the shelves, it's not hard to work out.
Especially not since the kitchen is quite small and most things end up going away into collections of like things.
The only truly peculiar one is the bread going in the freezer, and Darla takes care of that.
Rather a large part of her is wondering why she isn't more weirded out that he's telekinetic. (The idea of disbelieving Chandra has long since been thought of and then discarded. She gets the sense he's a terrible liar, and it's not as though these things are wholly out of the realm of possibility. Dar knows that from firsthand experience.)
Another, only slightly smaller part of her is wondering why she hasn't yet brought the subject up.
With a quietly flamboyant little gesture in the direction of the piano room. (Emo doesn't stop him from pretending at chivalry!) He's getting you back on that thing as fast as is superhumanly possible, Dar.
Actually, that earns her a rather more genuinely warm demeanour: Chandra did say that she was receptive to his theories. Somehow, however, he failed to mention that he spilled about Sylar's abilities. Funny how that happens.
"He's a brilliant man." He has THEORIES. About how Sylar's the pinnacle of evolution! (Well, maybe not exactly, but they can be about that if he WANTS them to be.) HE'S SO GREAT!
"Interesting theories," Dar comments, with a grin he can't see because he's walking behind her. It's audible anyways. Darla's grins are like that.
"He mentioned a few things about you, too."
Two, to be exact.
Hopefully that wasn't something Chandra was supposed to keep shut about. (She gets the sense the poor man couldn't keep a secret in a hermetically sealed jar.)
Chandra was right that Sylar doesn't mind people knowing. He's all for it, in fact. But he wants to be the one to tell them, dammit! He was only making an effort to keep it mum in the first place because Chandra didn't want the men in white coats popping up!
The temperature drops. (Not, the narration is compelled to point out, literally. Merely in a metaphorical sense, indicating displeasure and/or disappointment.)
"Sorry," she offers, glancing back apologetically as they cross the threshold of the piano room. "It's probably not the sort of thing you want people bragging about on your behalf, but..."
Darla's at a loss for words.
Darla Wood is at a loss for words.
Specifically, she isn't sure how to communicate the extent to which she finds the revelation of Sylar's abilities goddamned-fucking-excuse-me awesome.
Hopefully the face, with its hopeful, mildly awed smile, will take care of some of that.
Up goes his arm, and up goes his bag, lifting into the air like an invisible crane has taken hold of the handle. Then the second arm (he's like a composer!), and a clock drifts in its wake, starting (because he's a shameless show-off, and has been practicing with this power in every spare instant) to lazily orbit. The whole edifice wobbles very slightly, but with his eyes focused in sharp concentration it functions rather damn well.
It's not a curse or an exclamation or a stream-of-consciousness wondering babble that he receives. Just a breath, in and out, for which the only proper descriptive word is: awestruck.
"That's amazing," she manages finally, soft-voiced.
Not so much the ability to make things float - Dar can do that, too - but the control, the precision with which he does it, and the fact that he could theoretically manipulate... well, anything in such a way. She feels rather small by comparison. Suddenly the ability to be Very Very Good At Gardening just doesn't sound as impressive anymore.
Which, of course, leads her to wonder if she should reveal that little tidbit to the astonishing man before her.
The narration refuses to comment on the relative wiseness or stupidity of such an action.
He totally is amazing! Astonishing, impressive, yes, yes, all good descriptions! You'd better believe it!
And he's showing someone else (other than Chandra, whom he's shown a thousand times) his power! There's really no option of not showing off some more, to be brutally honest. Up totters a second clock, dragged up by his fingers to spin around the bag; it takes -- a lot of focus (his face is set in fierce concentration, and his smirk pressed thin), but -- he can do anything --
"I'm back," says Darla sunnily, bustling her way into the house burdened by a multitude of groceries.
She intended to talk to Gabe about Chandra. Really she did. It just slipped her mind repeatedly. Things do that, on occasion.
It's the work of about thirty seconds to wrestle her collection of bags down the hall to the kitchen and start putting things away, a task which she accomplishes quickly and efficiently.
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Just as a break from trudging through clock after clock (they're still fixed superbly, and the speed can't be faulted, but.), he's going to tread some new ground and offer a hand in the kitchen. Who are you and what have you done with the real Sabe?!
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The grin is replied to with a smaller, rather less radient, rather less grinny version. Darla may have noticed him being more subdued than usual today. If she's mentioned it, though, she won't have gotten any answer beyond just having had a long and tiring week.
Milk in the fridge, flour on the shelves, it's not hard to work out.
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The only truly peculiar one is the bread going in the freezer, and Darla takes care of that.
Rather a large part of her is wondering why she isn't more weirded out that he's telekinetic. (The idea of disbelieving Chandra has long since been thought of and then discarded. She gets the sense he's a terrible liar, and it's not as though these things are wholly out of the realm of possibility. Dar knows that from firsthand experience.)
Another, only slightly smaller part of her is wondering why she hasn't yet brought the subject up.
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"After you."
With a quietly flamboyant little gesture in the direction of the piano room. (Emo doesn't stop him from pretending at chivalry!) He's getting you back on that thing as fast as is superhumanly possible, Dar.
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"Met your friend Chandra," she mentions casually on the way down the hall.
If Chandra kept his word, Gabe knows this already. But it's as good a beginning as any to what should be a very interesting conversation.
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Actually, that earns her a rather more genuinely warm demeanour: Chandra did say that she was receptive to his theories. Somehow, however, he failed to mention that he spilled about Sylar's abilities. Funny how that happens.
"He's a brilliant man." He has THEORIES. About how Sylar's the pinnacle of evolution! (Well, maybe not exactly, but they can be about that if he WANTS them to be.) HE'S SO GREAT!
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"He mentioned a few things about you, too."
Two, to be exact.
Hopefully that wasn't something Chandra was supposed to keep shut about. (She gets the sense the poor man couldn't keep a secret in a hermetically sealed jar.)
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...What.
Chandra was right that Sylar doesn't mind people knowing. He's all for it, in fact. But he wants to be the one to tell them, dammit! He was only making an effort to keep it mum in the first place because Chandra didn't want the men in white coats popping up!
The temperature drops. (Not, the narration is compelled to point out, literally. Merely in a metaphorical sense, indicating displeasure and/or disappointment.)
"Did he."
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Darla's at a loss for words.
Darla Wood is at a loss for words.
Specifically, she isn't sure how to communicate the extent to which she finds the revelation of Sylar's abilities goddamned-fucking-excuse-me awesome.
Hopefully the face, with its hopeful, mildly awed smile, will take care of some of that.
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Also, it does kind of leave the door open to this question:
"Do you want to see?"
Said with a smile -- oh hell, who are we kidding? it's a smirk -- that says: hell yes you do, because I am awesome.
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Dar doesn't even have to think about that one. And yes, she's grinning again.
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Up goes his arm, and up goes his bag, lifting into the air like an invisible crane has taken hold of the handle. Then the second arm (he's like a composer!), and a clock drifts in its wake, starting (because he's a shameless show-off, and has been practicing with this power in every spare instant) to lazily orbit. The whole edifice wobbles very slightly, but with his eyes focused in sharp concentration it functions rather damn well.
WORSHIP HIM.
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SHE DOES.
It's not a curse or an exclamation or a stream-of-consciousness wondering babble that he receives. Just a breath, in and out, for which the only proper descriptive word is: awestruck.
"That's amazing," she manages finally, soft-voiced.
Not so much the ability to make things float - Dar can do that, too - but the control, the precision with which he does it, and the fact that he could theoretically manipulate... well, anything in such a way. She feels rather small by comparison. Suddenly the ability to be Very Very Good At Gardening just doesn't sound as impressive anymore.
Which, of course, leads her to wonder if she should reveal that little tidbit to the astonishing man before her.
It'd be only fair.
In a minute.
When she's done gawping, okay?
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He totally is amazing! Astonishing, impressive, yes, yes, all good descriptions! You'd better believe it!
And he's showing someone else (other than Chandra, whom he's shown a thousand times) his power! There's really no option of not showing off some more, to be brutally honest. Up totters a second clock, dragged up by his fingers to spin around the bag; it takes -- a lot of focus (his face is set in fierce concentration, and his smirk pressed thin), but -- he can do anything --
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