He lifts his hands, spreads the fingers, closes them again. The ice winks out. A flicks of his wrist: fallen leaves near the lake skitter into a tight spiral, as if stirred by an unfelt breeze.
Sylar doesn't look away, and doesn't stop glaring.
"And so are you." He lowers his hands; there's clear contempt in his voice now. "Unless I'm mistaken."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-10-21 11:33 pm (UTC)He lifts his hands, spreads the fingers, closes them again. The ice winks out. A flicks of his wrist: fallen leaves near the lake skitter into a tight spiral, as if stirred by an unfelt breeze.
Sylar doesn't look away, and doesn't stop glaring.
"And so are you." He lowers his hands; there's clear contempt in his voice now. "Unless I'm mistaken."