Mohinder had been about to land an amazingly placed hit when his world shifted. He hit the cold floor with a thud, air escaping his lungs. The next thing he felt were fists on the back of his head, and so he reached back to cover his skull with interwoven fingers, back rising and falling quickly. What the hell had happened?!
And before he could even stand, someone was holding him down. He would have assumed it was a guard, but the voice sounded familiar. Mohinder had to wait out the final sweep for mischief by disgruntled guards but when he heard the others dispersing and felt that hand leave his back, he pushed himself up quickly and spun upon the owner of that hand. "Leave me.....alone
( ... )
Despite his uppity attitude towards Sylar, Mohinder didn't hesitate to go and join him at his table once he had his tray. He took it over and sat across from the killer, lifting an eyebrow to maintain some form of dignity from the act. "There aren't any free tables. You're the lesser of several evils, unless you intend on killing me to make a point."
Like so many years before, he could feel himself becoming attached. That deep-seeded connection was something that had faded due to time and Mohinder decided it was alright, here and now. He needed a strong, powerful friend if he wanted to survive in here.
He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the geneticist as he sat. He'd wondered how this would play out, if Mohinder would shy away from him and try to make friends elsewhere, or gravitate toward something he knew, no matter how sordid their past.
"All thanks to a good night's sleep, at long last. And I don't plan on killing you, Mohinder. You were never that sort of target for me," he smiled, one arm leaned on the table, the other busied scooping out a bite of oatmeal.
Oatmeal was something he could get behind, and having not eaten his dinner the night before, Mohinder eagerly scooped it into his mouth.
He jumped when someone slammed their tray down across the room in a show of dominance to the others at his table. And Sylar didn't even bat a pretty eye. Figured. "Not that you need what I have. Especially now."
"You may not believe this, but I do possess a certain measure of restraint. I have, deliberately, not killed a special before," he snorted softly, smirking. "I am curious though. What have you turned out able to do? Why do the governments of the world consider you too dangerous to serve lesser beings?"
"Super strength," he said, straightening his spine a bite. No use being ashamed of it. "They say I'm just as dangerous as people like you because I'm the only one who knows how to make such an ability-giving serum."
While he was trying to sound proud Mohinder also remembered to be quiet about it, not wanting others to overhear. "Given the proper equipment I could recreate it in a heartbeat, which is why they ought to have me out there working with them."
Sylar practically spit his coffee back into the cup when Mohinder mentioned such a serum. He stared at the doctor openly for a moment, entirely unaware that such a process had even been created. "You have definitely just become the most dangerous man in this prison, as far as the outside world is concerned. Create more of us? They're having enough issues with population control as it is."
He bristled lightly and then licked his spoon clean in that unwittingly sexy Mohinder way. "But I am a man of ethics. Especially after I've seen what it can do. It isn't like I'd go gallivanting around, handing out syringes full of the serum. If they spoke with my father's colleagues about me, they'd know that."
Sylar smirked and shook his head, drinking his coffee with more confidence this time. "You are a singularly optimistic man, Doctor Suresh. Alright. Believe as you will, but I was working with these same people you're depending on for aid. Emile Danko himself practically gift-wrapped half a dozen individuals for me before deciding that working with the evolved just wasn't worth it. So here I am, drinking bitter coffee and forcing down what passes for nutrition in this place."
And before he could even stand, someone was holding him down. He would have assumed it was a guard, but the voice sounded familiar. Mohinder had to wait out the final sweep for mischief by disgruntled guards but when he heard the others dispersing and felt that hand leave his back, he pushed himself up quickly and spun upon the owner of that hand. "Leave me.....alone ( ... )
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Like so many years before, he could feel himself becoming attached. That deep-seeded connection was something that had faded due to time and Mohinder decided it was alright, here and now. He needed a strong, powerful friend if he wanted to survive in here.
"...Your wounds look better today."
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"All thanks to a good night's sleep, at long last. And I don't plan on killing you, Mohinder. You were never that sort of target for me," he smiled, one arm leaned on the table, the other busied scooping out a bite of oatmeal.
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Oatmeal was something he could get behind, and having not eaten his dinner the night before, Mohinder eagerly scooped it into his mouth.
He jumped when someone slammed their tray down across the room in a show of dominance to the others at his table. And Sylar didn't even bat a pretty eye. Figured. "Not that you need what I have. Especially now."
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While he was trying to sound proud Mohinder also remembered to be quiet about it, not wanting others to overhear. "Given the proper equipment I could recreate it in a heartbeat, which is why they ought to have me out there working with them."
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