Nathan had settled onto the arm of the couch, rubbing at the back of his head, back faced to Peter as the guy started in on his babbling again. Christ, he was barely even making actual conscious thoughts anymore - he was just... talking. Random words that, like, didn't even go together in any semblance of a sentence.

"Thoughts? ...About his mother?" Nathan repeated, a bit stupidly, with the kind of outrage that made him sound skeptical that Sylar would even have a mother. He was probably born in a petri dish. In a lab. Or something. "Why? What kind of...?"

Did he just...

Nathan turned around, looking at Peter's face smashed into the cushions, eyebrows jumping up a little. "Peter." He grabbed at Peter's shoulder, shaking it a little. "Peter?" Great. ...At least he was sleeping. "Right. You just... stay there. Good idea."