Night 51: Staff-Only Kitchen
[ From here. ]
Even the kitchen here looked spruced up and colorful, though Sylar didn't give much of a damn about that as he started rummaging through the drawers and cabinets for any kill-friendly utensils. So far, though, he was having surprisingly little luck: mixing bowls and stirring spoons weren't exactly going to help him in his efforts against Peter Petrelli unless his nefarious plan involved sitting him down and serving him waffles or something. Maybe if they were poisoned? That'd be kind of funny.
"How about something sharp," he muttered as he yanked open another compartment. Rolling pin. Yeah, if he was going to choose a blunt instrument to flail around, that wasn't the one. Finally, he tugged on one of the smaller drawers and found it jammed somehow, which, unfortunately, was probably a good sign. Peering down at it, he jostled the contents and pulled it out the whole way, revealing a mess of utensils, and...
"There you are." Sylar smirked as he drew out a long, thin carving knife and held it to the light of his flashlight. Polished and gleaming. He wouldn't mind having this while going up against some freak-of-nature monster.
He placed it on the counter and retraced his kitchen-raiding steps with a little more leisure and open-mindedness. A couple of cake testers might make for better lock-picking tools, for instance.
But he wasn't about to load himself down with too much unnecessary equipment. Snatching up his knife again, he started making his way out of the kitchen, a smile on his face.
[ Awaiting Elle encounter. ]
Even the kitchen here looked spruced up and colorful, though Sylar didn't give much of a damn about that as he started rummaging through the drawers and cabinets for any kill-friendly utensils. So far, though, he was having surprisingly little luck: mixing bowls and stirring spoons weren't exactly going to help him in his efforts against Peter Petrelli unless his nefarious plan involved sitting him down and serving him waffles or something. Maybe if they were poisoned? That'd be kind of funny.
"How about something sharp," he muttered as he yanked open another compartment. Rolling pin. Yeah, if he was going to choose a blunt instrument to flail around, that wasn't the one. Finally, he tugged on one of the smaller drawers and found it jammed somehow, which, unfortunately, was probably a good sign. Peering down at it, he jostled the contents and pulled it out the whole way, revealing a mess of utensils, and...
"There you are." Sylar smirked as he drew out a long, thin carving knife and held it to the light of his flashlight. Polished and gleaming. He wouldn't mind having this while going up against some freak-of-nature monster.
He placed it on the counter and retraced his kitchen-raiding steps with a little more leisure and open-mindedness. A couple of cake testers might make for better lock-picking tools, for instance.
But he wasn't about to load himself down with too much unnecessary equipment. Snatching up his knife again, he started making his way out of the kitchen, a smile on his face.
[ Awaiting Elle encounter. ]