Those with the demon's touch, like those half-angel, walk among us.

[influencepedlar]

Priest murdered, job completed satisfactorily, Balthazar steps from the convenience store out into the night. He finishes off his bottle of water, forked tongue darting out to catch any stray water drops, and casually tosses the bottle into the trashcan

Comments

[goingdarkside]

Sam is on his way outside when he notices the man who he assumes is a newcomer; no one else bothers to ring the bell. "Hate to tell you this, but there isn't any staff." He gives him an awkward smile. "This place is kind of messed up."

[influencepedlar]

... oooh. Fresh meat. And this one smells good. Balthazar leans back against the counter and gives Sam an oil-slick grin, resisting the urge to lick his lips again.

"That's a pity. I tip well. Who might you be, then?"

[goingdarkside]

"My name is Sam." Something about the guy unnerves him. He has that kind of slick, used-car salesman vibe. "Welcome to the Hotel, I guess. Not really much I can tell you, besides that it looks like you showed up the normal way."

[influencepedlar]

Balthazar knows he doesn't have the most inconspicuous name, though these days, people tend to think 'terrorist' before they think 'demon'. Either way, he offers his hand with a wide grin, "John. Pleasure to meet you, Sam."

Sam's hand is warm, his fingers callused; exactly the opposite of Balthazar's cool, perfectly manicured hand. The boy's good looking, in an innocent, almost feminine way. Just about the face, though, the rest of his body is most definitely masculine, and Balthazar eyes those muscles appreciatively. "Where are you from, Sam?"

[powerhunger]

On his usual watch from the bar with a perfect view of the lobby, Sylar spots Balthazar instantly as he walks in, and just as suddenly he receives a feeling of intense power when he looks at his eyes.

It's not the usual ability-signal, but what with encountering creatures of all kind on this island, some of whom possessed abilities but did not correspond to his world's rules (aka Dr. Manhattan), he isn't too surprised.

Hungry is probably a better word. When the bell dings Sylar waits about twenty seconds and casually strolls into the lobby, stopping and giving a polite smile at the impatient man by the bell.

"Well hello there," he says, nodding. "Service in this place is terrible, you'll be waiting at that desk a long time."