[Oh. Well. Knocking is probably a good idea, for next time. Yeah. He headed back toward her rood, rubbing the back of his head.] Sorry, uh. Didn't know if you'd be here.
Yeah, future reference: most people check first before passing notes like they're in grade school. [She gave him a look, then flicked open the fold of paper with two fingers and glanced over it.]
Yep. I'll even paint your nails if you tell me something good. [And that was perhaps the driest voice in the world. He gestured toward her room, then glanced down the hall.] Mind if I come in?
Yeah, some. Most recently? Threatened to kill me if I was 'tricking' you, then promised to 'do everything in my power to make you suffer' if I betrayed you. [She shrugged.] I stopped going back for more after that, he sounded kind of unmedicated.
[And Tim's going to run a hand over his face. Oh God. What the hell.] Too bad there isn't an actual psychologist on board. [Medicating Sylar, there's a thought.]
The blonde in the Infirmary's a shrink. Kinda. The weird one, not the cheery one.
[She drops down onto the couch, hooking her legs over an armrest.]
Hey, look at it this way - on the bright side, you've taught a monster how to love. On the less-bright side, you've...taught him to love you in an whacked-out psychotically possessive kind of way.
Whatever, everything Sylar says is just more crazy white noise to me. But you do realize that if he tries something stupid and I have to kick his ass then he's got nobody to blame but himself, right?
He doesn't know how to act normal. I don't know, maybe I should read up on methods of dealing with autism. There's some kind of divide that has to be bridged. [He runs a hand over his face, then pushes it through his hair.] Sorry. I'm sure you don't want to talk about him.
Tim, what the heck?
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Sooo, we're gossiping about your Inmate now?
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[He was smiling when he stepped in, but. Business, right. Time to deal with business. :|] So. Has he said anything to you?
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[She drops down onto the couch, hooking her legs over an armrest.]
Hey, look at it this way - on the bright side, you've taught a monster how to love. On the less-bright side, you've...taught him to love you in an whacked-out psychotically possessive kind of way.
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[He sits on the other end of the couch, running a hand through his hair.]
...You're really bad at this bright side thing, you know that?
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[At the suggestion that her optimism isn't her best quality, she just smirks.]
I'm a supervillain. The bright side isn't exactly my stock in trade, sue me.
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[He snorts, shrugging and leaning back against the couch.] I can tell. Uh - I'm sorry he said that to you.
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