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What You Make Of Me
Jul. 11th, 2011 02:26 pm"What You Make Of Me"
Who: Sylar and Mohinder
The dizzying flurry of colours is more shocking than the rest. Mohinder's breath catches in his throat as he's blinded by his hair for just a moment and his shirt is tossed right over Sylar's shoulder. With both hands free, for the moment at least, he pulls and tugs at cheap plastic buttons, reigning himself in before he can ruin them in his haste. As it had been with Bridget, or with following Sylar from Brooklyn to Queens or even getting in his car to head to Pinehearst's headquarters, Mohinder's philosphy seemed really very simple.
Do it. Do it now. Don't think about it.
It's too dark in the room for his scars to show, little nicks of paler skin along his ribs and arms and back, but they're raised just enough to be tangible. And Mohinder wants them to be touched and traced. Sylar put nearly all of them there himself over the past few months.
The buttons thwarting him, Mohinder curses under his breath. "Help me with this."
Who: Sylar and Mohinder
The dizzying flurry of colours is more shocking than the rest. Mohinder's breath catches in his throat as he's blinded by his hair for just a moment and his shirt is tossed right over Sylar's shoulder. With both hands free, for the moment at least, he pulls and tugs at cheap plastic buttons, reigning himself in before he can ruin them in his haste. As it had been with Bridget, or with following Sylar from Brooklyn to Queens or even getting in his car to head to Pinehearst's headquarters, Mohinder's philosphy seemed really very simple.
Do it. Do it now. Don't think about it.
It's too dark in the room for his scars to show, little nicks of paler skin along his ribs and arms and back, but they're raised just enough to be tangible. And Mohinder wants them to be touched and traced. Sylar put nearly all of them there himself over the past few months.
The buttons thwarting him, Mohinder curses under his breath. "Help me with this."
