(Untitled)

Aug 04, 2007 23:12

The reports she's hearing from Simon about his math teacher are disheartening; she sets up a meeting with the headmaster ( Read more... )

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matrelli August 7 2007, 04:44:05 UTC
She is feeding herself on wrath in church; when she realizes this later (if there is a later), she'll feel driven to confess her sins for the first time in well over twenty years.

She can't grieve for her eldest child anywhere that anyone can see. Anywhere anyone could suspect.

Yes; she's full of wrath.

"You will let me see your face," Angela says, low, "because you owe me that much for not raising every resource I have remaining to me against you the moment I knew what you'd done."

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watchmakers_son August 7 2007, 04:58:27 UTC
None of the Secret Service entered with them. They stayed outside, covering the doors, once the crowds had been escorted away.

If Angela already knows the truth, and this will only strengthen their agreement --

(and he has not forgotten, in five years, the look on his own mother's face as she screamed I want my son -- )

Sylar straightens in his chair, and there is a curious moment where he seems to keep straightening, even though he's stopped moving. A thick, liquid-like vibration shimmers the air around him; Nathan's hairline shifts forward, his eyes growing smaller, eyebrows broadening as the neatly-pressed suit morphs into a solid black trench coat.

"Satisfied?" he asks her in his own voice. It fairly drips false politeness.

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matrelli August 7 2007, 05:01:42 UTC
Only for a moment does she look taken aback; it changes quickly into grim acceptance, into careful scrutiny.

And then dismissal.

"Comb your hair," she says, and rises.

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watchmakers_son August 7 2007, 05:08:31 UTC
Sylar lifts an eyebrow as he watches her stand, one side of his mouth twisting into a lopsided, scornful smirk.

By the time he stands as well, it's Nathan Petrelli's shoes that are tapping out quiet footsteps along the aisle.

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matrelli August 7 2007, 05:14:17 UTC
One more phone call, once she's at the rear of the motorcade, and then away.

"I think I'll be able to manage their after-school snack on my own today."

She will not let her eyes get too bright, here or anywhere.

"Yes."

The traffic in the city is too horrific to take one's eyes away to reach for a tissue.

"Quite well, thank you. We'll speak again soon."

With a soft snap she lets the phone close and tosses it in the passenger seat; another button and the sunroof is open; she has time to wind her way the long way out of town and then back in (to lose anyone who might be following her) before picking up the boys.

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