Kim doesn't answer him at first; she can't. She manages at last to lift her gaze from the floor, only to immediately catch sight of another image, this one of a familiar figure. For a second she almost smiles.
But as she slowly begins to turn back around, Kim spots a carefully-assembled series of paintings, and then a second, and as her clear gray eyes meet the painted dead ones of Isaac Mendez, Kim understands.
The sound of her low, shocked gasp is far too loud in the stillness of the loft, she knows it, and as Kim spins to face Sylar she is is suddenly, acutely aware of her surroundings.
Say something, for god's sake! You can't let him find out-- if he even guesses...
"You're frighteningly talented," she hears herself say, as if from a distance. Kim's never been a good liar, ever, but then again it's not exactly a lie, is it?
no subject
Kim doesn't answer him at first; she can't. She manages at last to lift her gaze from the floor, only to immediately catch sight of another image, this one of a familiar figure. For a second she almost smiles.
But as she slowly begins to turn back around, Kim spots a carefully-assembled series of paintings, and then a second, and as her clear gray eyes meet the painted dead ones of Isaac Mendez, Kim understands.
The sound of her low, shocked gasp is far too loud in the stillness of the loft, she knows it, and as Kim spins to face Sylar she is is suddenly, acutely aware of her surroundings.
Say something, for god's sake! You can't let him find out-- if he even guesses...
"You're frighteningly talented," she hears herself say, as if from a distance. Kim's never been a good liar, ever, but then again it's not exactly a lie, is it?
"It's hard to look away."