seekevolution | Summer

Summer

Though Mohinder didn't buy into the saying that there could be such a thing as love at first sight, the way that Simon Petrelli looked at Molly when they were first introduced made him reconsider and then immediately close his thoughts so Matt wouldn't worry. Mohinder gently pulled her long hair back from her shoulder so his hand could rest upon it, Molly in a bright red and yellow sundress,and said shoulder covered by a small yellow half jacket. They'd both been pleased to find it at Walmart on the drive up from Fort Lee to Maine, taking the long, scenic route even though Peter had offered them a chance to teleport.

Why teleport when they could have more time together and see the country? Molly needed a little break away from enclosed spaces and the forests along their mountain roads in New York and at the southern border of Canada was just the ticket.

Of course, there had been blighted areas, places where the virus had broken out, or worse, where communities had closed their doors and grown violent. They had just guided their black SUV around the problem areas and stuck to rural hotels on the interstate.

Now, standing in the foyer of what looked like another hotel and yet, knowing it was a family summer retreat, Mohinder could feel Molly yearning to go explore...and the eldest of Peter's nephews more than willing to guide her.

They were both the same age. They'd both been without playmates (what nearly twelve year old counts their brother as a playmate?) for a long while. Mrs. Petrelli, gracious despite her furtive glances at Matt, finally gave them the go head. "Show Molly to her room. Gently, Simon. She's not one of your trucks." Molly glanced back up at Mohinder and he nodded.

"I'll come find you shortly."

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The sink was spotted and bloody. There were bloody tissues in the toilet too, to be flushed away. Mohinder was busy trying to wash everything up, to ignore the ache pounding horribly between his eyes and to try to not feel the loss already clamping down on him.

He'd never imagined a life without Matt, not even when they were parted in New York, not even when they were drifting here in Maine. That it had come to pass, that they were looking at a voluntary separation, was almost too much.

Mohinder had that masochistic side to him, however. He craved what was bad for him and though Matt had hurt him so very much, he was actually toying with the idea of forgiving him.

But what if it happened again? They weren't a good fit, he told himself, staring at the blood speckled white porcelain. They'd come together because they'd needed to. Their romance was mostly lust.

You had nothing in common.

They had nothing at all in common.

He saw the shadow behind him and looked up, eyes red, to stare at the reflection. Fear gripped him and he turned immediately. He had never been afraid of Matt before.

He's a monster. Like Sylar? It was their nature to take.

Matt felt more than a little broken, especially when Mohinder looked at him that way. He swallowed and sank back, making sure not to approach the way he had before. The way he normally would have. He kept a very safe distance between them, not touching Mohinder's personal sphere at all.

His hands were in his back pockets, his posture opened up. That wouldn't help. But it was a subconscious effort to look as small and unthreatening as possible in response to the fear in Mohinder's eyes and what he could sense of it in his mind, but he made sure to close their mental connection off. He couldn't risk anything else. And he didn't want to hear. He felt bad enough already.

"Mohinder", he started weakly, but then had to start over when his voice cut off. "Mohinder, I'm so sorry. I ... I never ... I'm sorry", and he hated himself right then, he really did, "I love you."

It was pleading and he really had no right to say that. But he already felt like he was grasping at straws. That wasn't him - hurting people like that, saying those things, that wasn't him. And he wasn't sure how to convince Mohinder of that since he didn't think he could convince himself.

Truthfully, Mohinder loved him back. Loved him sincerely no matter how far they had drifted, loved him despite yet another ransacking of his mind. Because you are weak. Because you love too quickly. Because you have no idea what love really is. The voice in his head broke him down inside and Mohinder cemented a hard, out of character look on his dark complexioned face. His lips set in a line and he lifted his head as proudly as he could.

Pushing Matt away would end up being a mistake but most of his life choices were mistakes. He had Molly to think about, if not his own well being.

Matt was lost to him. He'd played his dominance game, tore at his mind, pushed past misdeeds in his face. Another mindrape. Mohinder couldn't take another one. Not even the chance of one.

"Be that...as it may. I'll accept your apology. What I did behind your back was wrong." Though he had come clean right away. "But your choice to punish me in that way for it-- I do not think I can forget it so easily. We're-- Love does not make people right for each other. I was...hasty. Foolish. I won't keep Molly from you but for some time at least you must let me protect her. Your anger-- You need to find a way to manage what you can do or you'll end up like--"

Sylar.

Mohinder swallowed. "Like men you try to protect the world from."

Matt had a hand over his eyes when he nodded. Mohinder was right. He was all too right. Matt had - he'd thought about it before. He knew that a lot of the things he'd done in New York had been crossing a line, but the situation had justified it. He knew he'd crossed lines before, had felt sick when he'd realized how easy it was too, just from wanting something, and he'd ... talked to Mohinder about it too, how haunted he felt and how difficult it was to live with that temptation.

And here it was. He'd finally snapped. He knew he could do - well, almost anything, and that in itself was enough to scare him half to death, but he'd never thought he'd direct that kind of power towards people he loved. People who really, truly mattered.

He couldn't risk it. He had to ... just process, just go away for a moment, just ... it'd be okay after, he tried to tell himself, but he already felt a deep sense of loss. His throat was tight and he felt the tears, but he nodded.

"I never wanted ... I'm sorry", he said again, voice breaking slightly. "I'll ... will you give me a call?"

He didn't think he could bring himself to reach out first. He had no right. He'd done wrong by them.

"I'll figure it out and then ..."

No, he couldn't really finish that. It rang too hollow. He scrubbed his hand over his face and just looked at Mohinder, who was brilliant and amazing and imperfect in ways Matt knew he loved, but the rift between them was suddenly a chasm. In just one day. Just an hour, half an hour, a moment. Nice job, Parkman. Fucking flawless.

He'd never, never seen Matt look this way. He'd never seen him so upset. Reaching out, Mohinder caught himself when a voice hissed in his head not to be an idiot. He ended up crossing his arms over his chest instead just to be sure that he didn't mutiny against himself.

He nearly broke his jaw with how tightly he clenched it. "Matt--" If he left, when would he see him again? A different sort of fear crept into his stomach. "Yes. Of course I'll-- I'll have Molly call you as often as possible."

Tell him to leave.

Mohinder couldn't make himself do that...so he had to leave first himself, skirting around Matt without touching him.

"You don't have to leave...tonight. I'm going to stay with Molly." And that, hopefully, would be the end of it. He wanted to grieve silently, alone.

Losing Matt, no matter how scared he was of him, was going to break him.

Matt shook his head. He wanted to stick around - he wanted to do that so badly, and he found himself toying with the idea of just erasing all of this, of going back to just an hour earlier, but ... no. He couldn't trust himself. He couldn't do anything like that and live with himself, either. He needed to get away. At least for the moment. He didn't want to, but he knew that he had to.

"Bye, Mohinder", he said quietly when Mohinder left the room, and then gathered the most important things. Cell phone, charger, gun, ID; keys. The car keys.

He did allow himself a mental cloak when he left the house, not wanting to be stopped by anyone on the way down. He knew Peter would likely have tried to talk to him. But Matt was a stronger telepath and Peter wouldn't notice him leaving, nor would anyone else; he'd be gone when they next looked.

He drove for a while. The roads were almost completely empty - there was still some way to go to get to the actual city and the sky was dark. Eventually he parked near a side road, killed the engine and pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes, just stopping.

Thinking. Processing. Dying, honestly. It felt that way.

It was fortunate that the rest of the household was still asleep. This was all really late, but Peter was still up. He couldn't quite figure out what had happened, but he knew Matt was gone and that Mohinder was shaken. After Mohinder had calmed Molly down and gotten her to sleep and seemed like he was about to collapse in one way or the other, Peter quietly knocked on the door frame, entering the girl's room to get Mohinder's attention.

He really needed to figure this out. Help out, if he could. They were both his friends and it was clear that they were both torn apart by whatever had happened.

"Hey", he said gently, unsure but reassuring just from the tone he used. "Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

Mohinder almost tackled Peter to get him out of the room and with a push to his chest to match the bloody one he left on Matt's, he shut the door behind himself. The hall was not the right place for this conversation but there was little to be done about it. He did not want Peter in the room he and Matt had shared.

"I told him what happened. He was understandably angry and used my thoughts against me."

That was short. Simple. As to the point as possible.

And it explained the blood at Mohinder's nose. Matt hadn't physically attacked him but that would have been easier to deal with in a way. Bruises would fade from his skin. The mental scars of Matt's punishment would not.

He'd managed to keep himself stoic until he saw the look in Peter's eyes and then everything broke. His shoulders slumped and the tears came.

"It was my fault... But he had no right--" Mohinder was not a kicked dog. He could not forget the way Matt had looked in his anger.

Oh, he hadn't meant to stay - if Mohinder hadn't been in such a hurry to get him out of there, he actually would've motioned for him to join him elsewhere. But there was something almost reassuring about Mohinder's energy when he pushed at him. It meant he was still himself, or that he would be. This desperation wasn't his but silence and idling were traits that would be even less so.

And the explanation ... Peter was relieved, to a point. Abilities were difficult sometimes. It was easy to lose control and act on instinct. It didn't excuse Matt's actions at all, no, and from what Peter had seen of Matt's powers it was as far from reassuring as possible to know that he'd used them on Mohinder. 'Just' his power didn't exist with Matt because Matt's potential was beyond scary. But the thing was that a phsyical attack would have been even more out of character for the guy he considered his friend.

But all that reasoning aside, his immediate concern was still worry. Concern and alarm. He reached out, a hand to Mohinder's shoulder, trying to catch his eyes.

"Oh, shit", he said, because he knew that he wouldn't have wanted Matt to use his thoughts against him. "Hey, I'm sorry. Are you okay? Here-"

He motioned backwards a little. They didn't have to do this in the middle of the hall, but if Mohinder needed the moment to just lean against the wall, Peter wouldn't leave.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I've lost an arm," Mohinder admitted, though he hardly wanted to be touched right now. In fact, the last thing he wanted was for Peter to be in his space. He didn't want comfort. His own action caused Matt's and Matt's reaction had been frightening but that didn't get him off the hook.

He and Matt had not been together very long in the grand scheme of things but losing him was enough to kick him in the gut over and over and over again.

"I loved him. What I've done...it's inexcusable. Tomorrow I'll talk with Molly. I think it might be best if we leave." Peter didn't feel like a temptation any more. In fact, his mind felt...freer. Less heavy now. With Matt gone, that little whispering voice in the back of his skull was gone too.

He could breathe again.

And Peter was... Well. A friend. He couldn't even begin to understand why he'd kissed him.

"I've no idea what to do with her now. What to do with myself either."

Peter took a step back with the way Mohinder shifted away from him. They touched a lot in his family so he'd been compelled to offer that out of habit and instinct, but it wasn't what Mohinder wanted or needed, he could see that now. So he stopped. He tried to always take heed of what others were saying to him, in words or without.

"Yeah, maybe ... but look, Mohinder? It's not all your fault. He hurt you, too." He wanted to stress that. Mohinder had a habit of centering himself as the fault of things, that much had been clear from their more frequent talks. But Peter didn't think it was like that. This was something he and Matt both had to work out.

"You're - you can stay here anytime. For as long as you want." He paused, glancing towards Molly's room. He wasn't sure whether he should try to stop Mohinder from leaving or not altogether, but he didn't think it'd be a good idea for them to just go. Not now. "Maybe you should stick around for a day or two. Figure something out. You can't just pick her up and leave just like that. And ... call me crazy, but I don't think you should do anything right now. Just .. take a moment. Okay?"

What Peter said? It made sense. His head ached horribly, he was upset, and Molly still had a few days of summer vacation left. He had a week or two to enroll her somewhere else but this really had to be a decision they made together. She was a child, yes, but incredibly adult too. Mohinder needed her. He needed her now more than ever.

A small smile, completely fake, curled up on his lips as he lowered his eyes to the ground. There were so many shadows in the air.

The darkness wasn't as comforting as he'd expected.

He was destined, he knew, to be alone. He was the happiest alone. Whatever he and Matt had tried to do, it was commendable but it was nothing if not doomed from the start. "Listen, Peter....for what happened tonight between us-- I must have been lonely. I... I hadn't meant to come onto you. You're a wonderful friend. I'm so sorry if I made anything awkward. I... It was a terrible mistake on my part and for that, I take full responsibility."

Peter had no trouble accepting that. He believed Mohinder meant that and moreoever did believe it wasn't something Mohinder had meant to do, not like that. Mohinder might've used past tense but Peter believed he still loved Matt and that Matt loved him. He couldn't say what had caused the break between them and that probably should have worried him more than it did, because he could usually read people pretty well.

Whatever it was, though, Peter knew it wasn't about him. So he smiled, a little. "Don't worry about it. Just let me know if you need anything, alright?"

Like Mohinder had just said - they were friends. He wanted to help, if he could. Much like the way he also wanted to talk to Matt, but he knew that'd have to wait for now.

He hated this place. All the fake smiling, all the pretending that everything was honky-dory and A-OK was like pulling teeth...only seriously a whole less fun. Luke Campbell was constantly told that he was a lucky one. Lucky, he wasn't quite sure how he was suppose to be lucky when he'd been left in a run down greasy spoon by the side of a road no one fucking traveled anymore and ended up having to do a whole lot of really fucking awful things to get where he was today.

When he left Sullivan Bros, he was still in his white and red striped vest and his pant pockets were filled with little bags of kernels he use to delight children with by popping them right in his hand.

He made some good tips.

And on nights that tips weren't so good, he sucked a lot of cock.

It was ridiculous. That wasn't luck.

So when he stormed into a truck stop with twenty bucks and two days worth of hunger, he first thoughts were about hurting people. The attached diner was filled with a lot of fat nobodies. Luke picked his mark easily enough because he was the only dude that didn't look like he might kill him if he propositioned him.

He slid into the booth opposite a scruffy looking guy and smiled fakely at him. "Where're you headed, man? Buy me dinner and take me half way and I'll make it worth your while."

Looks could be deceiving. It was true that Matt looked anything other than murderous - it hadn't been long since he'd left, but the pain was still raw and real, even moreso after a phone call from his daughter and an awkward, uncomfortable exchange of words with Mohinder. No, his hand was in his hair, his eyes distant. There was something defeated about him, at first glance.

But he was still telepathic. He was still on edge and alert and still trying to figure out what he was even doing there and how he'd gotten there. But at the same time, other people's thoughts were a way of getting away from his own.

He'd immediately heard the kid's and what they were centered on. Hurting people. Fucking people too, or rather detached thoughts about being fucked enough times to get out of his own miserable part of life. It was a mix of thoughs Matt didn't want to deal with, but life isn't especially charitable like that, and he ended up staring this thoughts down. They had a surprisingly hard face. The smile was pasted on.

He was practically glaring when the kid tried to chat him up. He didn't have time for this. He didn't want to deal with this. But he couldn't just walk away either, so he sighed and dropped his voice.

"Listen kid, I know what you're thinking. Trust me, I'm not your guy. If you want to wreck yourself, fine, but I'm not gonna help you."

"You know what I'm thinking?" Luke didn't sound impressed, though his mind was alive with potential. The carnival had been filled with people like him. It was suppose to be his new sort of family but he'd figured out early on that it wasn't for him to have a family.

His mom had been more than happy to let him go. She hadn't even called the cops when he stole the car. She was afraid of him, pleased he left after getting blood on the carpet. Blood...and boiled whatever else was in that guy.

It still felt good to think about it.

Dark eyes rimmed in red from sleepless nights and smoke searched Matt's face.

Just take his wallet and run then, he was thinking to himself, almost lazily. When he follows, I'll singe all the hair off of his prick. Lumbering asshole probably couldn't catch me anyhow.

"All I want is a ride, dude. To anywhere. And something to eat. Can't you help a guy out?"

Out of condoms anyhow.

... wow, something was seriously wrong with this kid's mind; something slow and hazy but yet fractured and sharp, and Matt for the first time in a very long time thought about Sylar. He hadn't liked the feeling of his mind. Luke's was different but similarly messed up. Not ... normal.

Matt tilted his head very slightly to the side and his eyes narrowed. He blocked away the others, the stream of thoughts he'd let wash over him, and instead focused on the kid.

He was almost surprised. He'd heard a lot of these kind of thoughts before from punks who thought they were tough, but again; something a bit different about this one.

He grit his teeth at that last thought. God, no. He didn't want anything to do with this guy that way.

"Right. Why don't you tell me how the hell you wound up here anyway, huh?"

Yeah, he'd always be a cop. He was supposed to talk delinquents down, convince them to go home and play nice. Really didn't think it'd work here after everything that had happened in the world, but it was second nature. Assess the damage. See if you can help.

Oh, but how reluctant he was when Luke was thinking of him that way, and his eyes remained wary.

Luke reached across the table to snag a fry from Matt's plate, sucking suggestively on the tip. He didn't like to do it. Sex sort of grossed him out but money was may more important than anything else these days. He couldn't just leave a trail of corpses, boiled in their cigarette stinking flannel shirts and open jeans. It would lead the Company right to him.

The Company. That made him balk and he shoved the fry into his mouth almost viciously. "Thought you knew what I was thinking."

A test for a test? Luke leaned forward. His eyes were almost desperate and he was an open book anyhow. At seventeen years old, he thought even more loudly than Molly.

"Why don't you tell me?"

It was all right there for Matt. Sylar. The agent that he killed. The way he use to egg people on to beat him up. His father's abuse. The carnival--

Anything Matt wanted was right there.

Matt's teeth clicked in annoyance at the way Luke stole the fry. Not because he cared in any way about the piece of potato, but because of the way the kid treated it. Because of what he was thinking. But that kind of thing wasn't all him, either - there was resignation and that share of desperation and Matt already knew that he really didn't have a choice here. He had to try to help Luke out somehow since he'd been pushed this far.

And - yeah. Yeah, he read his mind. Mostly because he hadn't expected it to be offered but even moreso because he hadn't expected Luke to consider his words literally. 'I know what you're thinking' was just as often just something you said. But then ... this guy could boil people from the inside.

Could do that, and laugh about it. To Sylar. Sylar. Everything else clouded over to Matt, became unfocused, and he zeroed in on it in a way that Luke would likely feel even if he hadn't had Matt's sudden look to clue him in on it.

"Sylar", he said in a low tone through his teeth. "You were with Sylar? When?"

Well color a teenage psychopath confused. Sitting back against the tattered and torn seat of the booth, Luke's hands pressed against the table, still a little sticky from a clean up job not well done.

He knows Sylar. Play. It. Cool.

"Yeah dude, 'course I know that asshole," Luke said with an air of a lovesick little girl. He shrugged, trying to pretend it was all just fine. He even put his arm on the back of the booth as nonchalantly as possible.

That...was pretty impossible though.

"Uh-- Why? I mean it's been like a few weeks...we were traveling together and--"

You can seriously read my mind? Okay? That's seriously fucking cool.

Matt had gone from john to target to someone to cling to of sorts. It didn't bode well for the older man. "Well he fucking left me to go see his dad or some shit. What the fuck ever, right? Dude's a freak." A amazing. Shit where he is? "Do you work for that fucktard Company?"

Oh, this was bad. It was beyond bad. It was infuriating and terrifying. Matt shoved the plate with the fries and a third of a burger towards the kid, definitely no longer having an appetite of his own. And what was that - Luke having travelled with Sylar? Sylar hadn't killed him? And Luke was acting like a lovesick puppy. Jesus Christ.

"I can do a lot more than read minds, so don't even think about trying anything", Matt warned him. Yeah, he could do a lot more than read minds. A whole lot more. And this little roadtrip of isolation was supposed to be a way to reign himself in. He really didn't need this, didn't want to have to do something in order to keep Luke in line, but he would if he had to.

And at the question, he couldn't mask the look of distaste even if he'd tried. "No. Okay, kid, you help me out? I might return the favor. Where's Sylar?"

Sylar needed to die. He had to die. For good, this time. That created varying differences, but fortunately, Matt was the only mind reader at the table - although with the way Matt said Sylar's name, Luke might well figure out that Matt was looking for blood.

And he needed to warn - had to get in touch with Mohinder and Molly, make sure they knew and were safe ... get Peter, if he could. It'd be a manhunt. But it'd be for the greater good.

Sylar looking for his father? That didn't seem like a good sign.

Luke seemed to have two options here. One, tell Matt what he knew and be left behind again or two, try to pull the same stunt he had with Sylar, stringing him along until he was sure he'd be taken with. Trouble was that even if they got to the cabin where Samson Gray once told Luke he liked to go, Sylar would be long gone. Samson would too, likely. It had been weeks ago that Sylar had thrown Luke around the diner and left him like a little lost lamb, bleeding and bruised and in the middle of fucking nowhere.

"I don't know where he is," Luke said, deciding to be forthcoming...for the moment. He was still unsure about Matt and even if he was, he couldn't help but lie. He lied for no reason at all. It was ingrained in him. "I know where he was headed. If you're not with the Company then why do you even-- Oh. The whole serial killer thing?"

Luke was very casual about it, picking up the burger and heating it back up without a flinch. Shit. He sucked dick for a meal. Finishing some dude's half eaten sandwich didn't bother him one fucking bit.

"Did he kill one of your friends? Yanno. He's like damaged goods. Seriously fucked up in the head. But hey. If I could do what he could do I would be fucked up in the head too. How is that mind reading working out for you? Are you fucked up too?"

Already Luke had changed his posture to match Matt's.

Edited 2014-04-10 12:36 (UTC)

Matt resisted telling Luke that he was fucked up, because that didn't actually seem very conductive to anything, but he still thought it. But the other reason he didn't say anything was because the question had hit a nerve. He'd sure felt fucked up, that much was certain.

But he was nowhere near what Sylar was. Mohinder might have implied a not yet, but that still meant that he still wasn't. Good enough, he figured. But there were other priorities here than that kind of introspection.

"Even if I was, that's none of your business", he said flatly, not wanting to defend himself to a teenager. Even if it had been more of an honest question than anything accusatory. Matt's reaction had more to do in equal parts the fact that he was asked at all and his reluctance in properly facing what had gone down before this bizarre meeting. Just under two days and he already felt the denial mixed with resignation. "Luke, right? Want to tell me why 'the serial killer thing' doesn't seem to bother you?"

He could figure out why, but he wanted to hear the reasoning.

Not exactly impressed by Matt's show of intimidation (it was hard after all to be intimidated by big men when he could do all sorts of things to them from a distance), Luke just watched him scowl. His attempt to play off a flat faced stoicism wasn't really doing much to impress the teenager either. Luke wasn't trying to push buttons for once, he was simply interested at the man behind the facade questioning him.

"Yeah, Luke. Don't go by that any more actually. My dad's name was Luke too and that prick-- Haha, you know what? Doesn't matter. Luke's fine, whatever." He'd been going by Gabe at the carnival. Little wonder why actually.

He shoved half a plate of fries into his mouth, legs hollow like most teenage boys, and reached for the soda Matt probably wasn't going to touch anymore any way.

"Duh, man. Why the fuck would I be afraid of him? Why would he bother me? We were partners," he lied, but there was some sweet little memory there too.. Luke had gotten Sylar's back...and Sylar came back for him in the end.

Yeah, Matt wasn't going to call him Gabe if he could help it. And whatever name Luke preferred, Matt wasn't actively trying to intimidate him, it was just something ingrained. Come to think of it, it had probably settled properly when he'd been Luke's age; only way to make people take him seriously.

Which is what made him figure that Luke acting so flippant might be a way for him to shield the world away or try to scare it off. Well, assuming he wasn't fucked up. There was still something so very off in his mind that couldn't possibly be something positive.

"Sylar doesn't have partners", Matt said pointedly, watching the kid eat. "Sylar? Is a sick fuck who kills people like you."

Yeah, he could sense the memory, was tapping into it, but couldn't quite believe what he saw there. Luke could've very well made it up. He got these puppy dog eyes when talking about Sylar and that was disturbing, if both tragic and confusing.

"Sylar's a sick fuck, I'll give you that," Luke said, smiling with as much horrible charm as Sylar himself. That grin was not Luke's own, it was the mirror image of the one Sylar had given to Matt when he teased him about liking the way Mohinder sounded when he was in pain. "But he's got a reason. It's survival of the fittest. You do what you do because it's like literally who you are. Same with me. Same with him. It's like being mad at a killer whale for munching on a Seaworld trainer or some dolphins. Shit man, it's what he does."

And if Sylar didn't have partners, how did Matt explain Luke? If Sylar ate people like him for lunch, why was Luke eating his dinner right now, inhaling it faster than anyone ought to be able to?

The last fry was drenched in ketchup and Luke flagged down the waitress to get a chocolate milk. He hadn't been talking low enough really and she'd heard him going on about killers. It did not endear him to her and she had half a mind to call the police. It was on a loop in her mind as she stared at Matt for the OK on the milk.

Luke ignored her.

"I'm still here, dude. Here and happy. Hello there. Sylar might be a killer whale and I might just be some seal or penguin but you know what? He saw something in me. Bet you can too. You're a lot like him. I can tell."

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