He shifts his stance, nearly infinitesimally; Sylar's feet draw perfectly even with one another as he settles his hands into his coat pockets. Still heavy with water -- if no longer enough to be dripping -- the fabric swings like a pendulum.
Similar agendas. The enemy of the enemy. Another small smile touches his own lips.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-12-06 05:07 am (UTC)Similar agendas. The enemy of the enemy. Another small smile touches his own lips.
It may have to do, then, for now.
"Then I'll help you," he says.