Having not gotten to Peter before the gun was drawn, Mohinder throws himself down instead to protect his face from flying glass. Really? Again? Hasn't he had enough of that in his hair for a life time? There are still scars, faint but still there, from Sylar's little joyful yo-yoing up and down again. Not fun.
And this isn't either. Esspecially with Jack yelling and the shattered glass and the enclosed space where the gun went off left Mohinder's ears ringing. He blinks, shaking his head, trying to push himself up...and realizes that the front of his white shirt is completely soaked in blood.
His trembling hands lift to touch the fabric and the first stings of the gunshots rattle through his body. Mohinder gasps. "Oh-- Oh god--" he moans, and looks up at Peter.
The Scot, likely also suffering from the sound of the blast from the gun, won't see anything on Mohinder at all. The pantomiming, however, will fill him in on what Mohinder thinks -- feels? Perhaps even sees? -- is happening.
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And this isn't either. Esspecially with Jack yelling and the shattered glass and the enclosed space where the gun went off left Mohinder's ears ringing. He blinks, shaking his head, trying to push himself up...and realizes that the front of his white shirt is completely soaked in blood.
His trembling hands lift to touch the fabric and the first stings of the gunshots rattle through his body. Mohinder gasps. "Oh-- Oh god--" he moans, and looks up at Peter.
The Scot, likely also suffering from the sound of the blast from the gun, won't see anything on Mohinder at all. The pantomiming, however, will fill him in on what Mohinder thinks -- feels? Perhaps even sees? -- is happening.
"You.. Peter.. Oh God!"