Sylar doesn't break his gaze right away; it stays on Lucy for several more seconds without wavering.

Then...it's as she said. Sylar is very precise.

One movement: his eyes lock on the cooler. Another: he reaches down, fingers spread wide, and briefly twitches them wider when his hand is several inches above the lid.

There's a thin, squeaky scrape before it pulls free and leaps into his hand. When he sees what's inside, Sylar's head tilts further as he frowns.

It's not an expression of disgust. It's curiosity; contemplation.