He almost gets there before Eden says, "Freeze, ah-- you." She's trying unsuccessfully to balance a normal, casual tone of interaction with the alarm that's pelting through her.
She just needs a moment to study him, fit him into her mental Sylar and Gabriel catalogue. (That there are separate spots for Sylar and Gabriel is an acheivement in itself.)
Her eyes narrow as she tries to absorb the full impact of that. "A real Sylar, this time? Care to tell me what exactly happened?
"I'll pay for another cup, if you want." Here the self-assured young woman bleeds away, becomes someone quieter, unsure, who momentarily can't meet his gaze.
Eden nods. There's a moment's hesitation before she turns her back to him to go to the counter.
She orders some concoction with skim milk, no syrup, no whip cream - very health conscious, our Eden. She'll pay for whatever Gray orders and then take a seat at the table he just vacated.
It's a two-person table. Gray likes to minimize his impact on the world.
It should surprise no one that he orders a simple coffee, black, and adds nothing to it whatsoever before taing a seat.
"I was here a few hours ago and a stranger mistook me for someone he had met before," he begins. "Informed me that he thought I must have-- I believe the expression was 'balls of solid rock'-- to remain in this city. When I told him he had the wrong man, he and I had a conversation about duplicates."
He'll get to the god part in a minute, don't worry.
"That was evidence enough that he and Sylar had an altercation. When I inquired as to how he won it, and a few other things, his answer was divine intervention."
The smile stumbles when she's halfway across the coffee shop and notices Gray. And by stumbles, it's more like it's cut off at the knees.
Now would be a time to make a sneaky exit. Eden knows this. She also knows that she'd like her feet to be able to move. Anytime, feet. Anytime....
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He's seen her once before in this world.
With a quiet nod, Gray picks up his paper cup and stands to head for the door. He doesn't need to make her day any worse than it already is.
(A habit of caution means the door is mere feet away from his table.)
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She just needs a moment to study him, fit him into her mental Sylar and Gabriel catalogue. (That there are separate spots for Sylar and Gabriel is an acheivement in itself.)
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"Yeah. You weren't gray when I met you, so--" Why does she need to justify her actions?
"Unfreeze."
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His smile is small and humourless.
"Though you may wish to know that Sylar has been made unwelcome in this city. Apparently he had a run-in with a god. It didn't go well."
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"I'll pay for another cup, if you want." Here the self-assured young woman bleeds away, becomes someone quieter, unsure, who momentarily can't meet his gaze.
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She orders some concoction with skim milk, no syrup, no whip cream - very health conscious, our Eden. She'll pay for whatever Gray orders and then take a seat at the table he just vacated.
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It should surprise no one that he orders a simple coffee, black, and adds nothing to it whatsoever before taing a seat.
"I was here a few hours ago and a stranger mistook me for someone he had met before," he begins. "Informed me that he thought I must have-- I believe the expression was 'balls of solid rock'-- to remain in this city. When I told him he had the wrong man, he and I had a conversation about duplicates."
He'll get to the god part in a minute, don't worry.
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"You'd certainly be qualified to have that conversation," she remarks.
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He doesn't smile. Quite.
"That was evidence enough that he and Sylar had an altercation. When I inquired as to how he won it, and a few other things, his answer was divine intervention."
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"Uh huh," she murmurs, with an air of continued curiosity that almost blots out the undercurrent of wariness around the speaker.
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"A few of the things he said led me to theorize that he was the god in question. Nothing conclusive, but it's where the evidence points."
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"My friend met someone the other day who was in a fight pretty much like you described. She met the guy who stopped Sylar and he said he was Hades."
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Small, wry smile.
"It would appear stealth is not his strong suit. Then again, I suppose he doesn't need it."
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