If Matt wanted to keep hold of him, Mohinder would let him. A month apart, each doing duties neither wanted, was enough to let the geneticist relax in his emotions. They were heated. There would be more time for heat later. At the moment, a hand to Matt's chest sufficed.

Peter turned dark eyes towards the elder of their new little group, doubled in size, and shook his head. "No. But there were a dozen in Central Park." At the fire. The look on his face was meant to tell Matt that they hadn't been the cause of the explosion, they'd been victims. "Lord Crazy--" It was what they knew the most violent leader of the largest group in Manhattan by, "had a little shower of strength. Two were just kids."

It killed him to do nothing. Matt could probably see the fire at that.

"I can take them. Alone. I can put them where they won't hurt anyone else." He'd done it to Sylar. Why not this group? And yet... He still gave heed to Matt, even now. Peter was stronger by far, but Matt had become a substitute older brother and Peter latched right onto that role.

Mohinder finally stood back and frowned.

For once, he kept his mouth shut.

Bad day to visit New York?"