"It’s very sensible of you to worry about them, but they do make a shot for cooties," Sandra said, smiling. "My husband and I both got ours years ago."
"Oh, sure. Quick and painless! Just a 'circle circle dot dot'," Sandra recited, tracing the proper amount of circles and dots on Molly's arm with her index finger. She grinned, teasing. "There. You're all set. Now you can marry any boy you want."
"This is Mr. Muggles." She held the Pomeranian out, who sniffed at Molly with marked interest possibly determining if she was of any use to The Plan. "Would you like to hold him?"
Laura read through the application and called over a house-elf. She whispered in its ear, and it disappeared, reappearing a few minutes later with a tea tray that was, in typical elf fashion, overloaded with tea-cakes and other goodies. She thanked the elf, who looked affronted and disappeared with a *pop*.
"Tea-time," she told the little girl. "That's what time it is in Scotland. Would you like some?"
"Do they really have teatime in Britain?" Molly asked, interested. "I thought it was just something they put in books. I'd like some, please." She eyed the cakes--she'd eaten not long ago, but like all little girls she always had room for cake.
"Thanks." Molly took two big spoonfuls of sugar and stirred them in, sipping--hey, she was a kid. Kids needed sugar. "I don't know how I got here, actually. I went to sleep and when I woke up, I was here." She knew she was in Scotland--she was good at always knowing where she was--but why she was here, she didn't know.
Having been involved in his own Sorting, Peter hadn't really paid much attention to anybody that didn't directly talk to him. He'd heard bits and pieces of Molly's application, enough to hear some fairly relevant bits of information. Walker, being able to find anybody - it hit Peter.
Of course, she was the Walker system Mr. Bennet had mentioned. She'd found him, and she'd found Sylar, so Peter supposed he probably owed her a lot.
Although he probably looked like shit (having been impaled with bits of chair would do that to you) Peter wandered over and sat down next to Molly. "That's a pretty cool ability," he smiled. "Can I have some gum?"
Molly looked at him, concerned. "Are you okay?" she asked, and smiled shyly. "Thanks. It can be pretty cool, I guess." She held out the gum--grape HubbaBubba. "You can blow pretty big bubbles with it. Careful, though--if you make them too big and they pop, it gets stuck in your hair." She'd learned that the hard way.
"Nothing I can't heal," Peter grinned, tapping his nose as if he were giving away a great secret.
Taking a piece of the gum, he started chewing on it, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he tried to blow a bubble. He'd never been great at it, and having hair constantly in his face meant that he just made an absolute fool of himself. "Whoops," he said dryly, picking pieces of gum out of his hair. "So how did you end up here?"
Just what the poor girl needed in her first few minutes of showing up at a strange, castle-like school... a new location she'd never been to, where she was by herself and on her own. The Boogeyman himself showing up, slow smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Molly Walker? Oh, he'd been trying to get at her for so long. And now here she was. She'd practically come to him.
...He'd had a bad week. He was definitely allowed to talk with her. Sylar only crouched down in front of Molly, eyebrow slowly raised to the little girl, and that same, halfway creepy grin in his features.
Ohcrap. Oh crap. Molly scrambled backward, nearly tipping over the bottle of ink beside the application. She stopped only when her back hit the wall, her eyes the size of quarters.
"You're not supposed to be here," she whispered. "You were dead. I saw you. You got stabbed." People were supposed to die when they were stabbed...that was the point of stabbing, wasn't it?
Oh, damn. Was he scaring her away? He hadn't meant to. No, honestly. She was so dreadfully adorable. He couldn't help himself. But maybe pinning her mother and stabbing her multiple times over might have kind of thrown off all bets of Molly ever looking at Sylar with an emotion other than fear. ...Freezing her father and chopping off the top part of his head might have been a bit much too.
"I got stabbed," he agreed in that same sort of cool, condescending voice, smile still in place. "But I didn't die." Climbed into the sewer, sure. Festered for a few days down there, probably picked up who knew how many infections. But didn't die.
Molly knew when she was being condescended to. Normally it made her mad, but this was the Boogeyman. She hugged her knees, wondering what would happen if she tried to run away.
"Why not?" she asked. She was pretty sure it was breaking the rules, to get stabbed and not die.
"Explain this concept of cooties, will you?" Yoda cocked his head to one side and wiggled his bat-like ears. "Not a disease I am familiar with, it is."
Whoa...what was this guy? He was even shorter than she was.
"Cooties? It's like...you get it from boys, if you kiss them or anything--boys can get them from girls, too. Boys and girls have opposite kind of cooties, you see, and they're only bad when you pass them back and forth. Cooties make you stupid," she said, with all the wisdom of a ten-year-old. "They might make you smell, too. I'm not sure."
"Mmmm." Yoda nodded sagely and gnawed on his cane. "Know this disease by a different name, I do. Many a youngling has it infected. But fatal it is not, so worry about it you probably should not." He wrinkled his nose. "Though perhaps gotten to you it already has?" He giggled, then shook his head. "Yoda, my name is."
Molly returned the giggle. "Nice to meet you, Yoda. Where are you from?" Clearly nowhere on earth, she thought--did he come here in a spaceship? She wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if that would sound dumb.
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"This is Mr. Muggles." She held the Pomeranian out, who sniffed at Molly with marked interest possibly determining if she was of any use to The Plan. "Would you like to hold him?"
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"Can I?" she asked, reaching to pet the dog. She'd only ever seen pictures of Pomeranians--they really were big balls of fluff, with feet.
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"Tea-time," she told the little girl. "That's what time it is in Scotland. Would you like some?"
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Laura poured a cup and passed it to Molly's side of the tray. "There you go. Help yourself to sugar or lemons or whatever else you like."
She took a sip of her own tea and skimmed the application again. "So are you here looking for somebody? You said you can find anyone."
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Of course, she was the Walker system Mr. Bennet had mentioned. She'd found him, and she'd found Sylar, so Peter supposed he probably owed her a lot.
Although he probably looked like shit (having been impaled with bits of chair would do that to you) Peter wandered over and sat down next to Molly. "That's a pretty cool ability," he smiled. "Can I have some gum?"
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Taking a piece of the gum, he started chewing on it, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he tried to blow a bubble. He'd never been great at it, and having hair constantly in his face meant that he just made an absolute fool of himself. "Whoops," he said dryly, picking pieces of gum out of his hair. "So how did you end up here?"
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"I don't know," she said. "I went to sleep, and when I woke up I was here. Is this place really magical?"
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...He'd had a bad week. He was definitely allowed to talk with her. Sylar only crouched down in front of Molly, eyebrow slowly raised to the little girl, and that same, halfway creepy grin in his features.
"Hey, Molly."
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"You're not supposed to be here," she whispered. "You were dead. I saw you. You got stabbed." People were supposed to die when they were stabbed...that was the point of stabbing, wasn't it?
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"I got stabbed," he agreed in that same sort of cool, condescending voice, smile still in place. "But I didn't die." Climbed into the sewer, sure. Festered for a few days down there, probably picked up who knew how many infections. But didn't die.
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"Why not?" she asked. She was pretty sure it was breaking the rules, to get stabbed and not die.
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"Cooties? It's like...you get it from boys, if you kiss them or anything--boys can get them from girls, too. Boys and girls have opposite kind of cooties, you see, and they're only bad when you pass them back and forth. Cooties make you stupid," she said, with all the wisdom of a ten-year-old. "They might make you smell, too. I'm not sure."
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