It was true that when it came to Sylar, Mohinder was a bit of a hypocrite. Most of the time he was a peaceful and mild-mannered man; before his father's death he had enjoyed his life in India with relative ease. Certainly, he'd had fights every now and again -- with his ex-girlfriend Mira, with Nirand his colleague, with his parents, who always had treated him with a little bit of distance he'd only come recently to understand. But those were nothing compared to the darkness Sylar pushed him to. Even now, he'd like nothing more than to get his hands around that pale throat.

He thought Sylar still had him beat in the 'sadistic psycho' category, though.

"I will," he said again, a little more determination behind it this time. "And in the meantime you can be sure that I'll have my eye on you, Sylar. You're not going to be hurting anyone here."

Maybe he'd just take to shooting him every time he acted up. Sylar could stop bullets, but not all of them, and even though it wouldn't kill him it would certainly hurt. The idea made Mohinder smile just a little bit, and that was enough to break the rabbit-like paralysis of fear he'd been caught in. He turned away, bending down to pick up his briefcase in a businesslike manner. "Don't you need to choose a House for me? I thought I'd heard that's how this goes."