V [VISUAL/LOCATION: OSTEN/SHELLEY LINE] NO ON REMAINS QUITE WHAT HE WAS WHEN HE RECOGNIZES HIMSELF
There was little that could be said about Gabriel's day so far. He'd woken up, gotten dressed, gotten something to eat, and then made his way out of the Sanctuary For All in order to head back to his shop and clean up the few loose ends that had been left dangling while he'd been making sure that Peter didn't end up killing himself from over activity the last few days. With the other man all patched up, there was no reason that he had to stick around constantly now. But he was only intending on popping out for an hour or so as it was.
He wasn't sure what had happened mid-way through the stream of his plan. He'd been perfectly content when he'd sat down on the trolley from Osten to Shelley, but by the time that he had arrived at his destination, Gabriel's entire attitude had shifted. The meekness had seeped out of his character. He'd reached up and removed the glasses that had been perched on the end of his nose with so much force that he nearly snapped them in two. And as he fished his tablet out of his pocket, electricity crackled on his hands, provoked by the sheer intensity of his anger.
As he flipped on the visual function of the tablet, Sylar's rage was more than clear on his facial features as he demanded in a voice that was very much not the timid Gabriel Gray that he had been for the past few weeks, "I want to talk to whoever's in charge of this place and its sick little jokes. Now."
He wasn't sure what had happened mid-way through the stream of his plan. He'd been perfectly content when he'd sat down on the trolley from Osten to Shelley, but by the time that he had arrived at his destination, Gabriel's entire attitude had shifted. The meekness had seeped out of his character. He'd reached up and removed the glasses that had been perched on the end of his nose with so much force that he nearly snapped them in two. And as he fished his tablet out of his pocket, electricity crackled on his hands, provoked by the sheer intensity of his anger.
As he flipped on the visual function of the tablet, Sylar's rage was more than clear on his facial features as he demanded in a voice that was very much not the timid Gabriel Gray that he had been for the past few weeks, "I want to talk to whoever's in charge of this place and its sick little jokes. Now."