(no subject)
He took a room upstairs after all, once he'd been officially released from the infirmary. For Sylar, the patient of Dr. Tam and recent victim of who knew how many medical experiments, it showed an understandable reluctance to go back to his own world right away.
(For Sylar, the man still struggling to locate an understandable frequency within the bar, it gave him some more time for study, uncomfortable as it might have been. Others like Dr. Tam had to exist, ones that he could see and hear as clearly as those outside. It would only be a matter of finding them.)
Once, he came downstairs, made a quiet request of Bar, and took the clothes she produced back up to his room.
Now the tan work shirt's folded atop his table, the Primatech baseball cap resting on top of it, but he's already put on the boots, work pants, and white dress shirt. He's also stuck a small band-aid over the stitches on the back of his head.
All that's left is to finish his tea.
(For Sylar, the man still struggling to locate an understandable frequency within the bar, it gave him some more time for study, uncomfortable as it might have been. Others like Dr. Tam had to exist, ones that he could see and hear as clearly as those outside. It would only be a matter of finding them.)
Once, he came downstairs, made a quiet request of Bar, and took the clothes she produced back up to his room.
Now the tan work shirt's folded atop his table, the Primatech baseball cap resting on top of it, but he's already put on the boots, work pants, and white dress shirt. He's also stuck a small band-aid over the stitches on the back of his head.
All that's left is to finish his tea.