hh_mirror | If the Invisible Man sends owls, would he write in Invisible Ink?

You're giving me far too much credit. And what, did you think I was planning to do nothing with my time but bother you? Please. ~~My hands are looking very nice these days, thank you.~~

P.S. You're in a bright pink dorm? Nice one. What did you do to piss off the Hat that badly?

That seems to be a reoccurring theme with me, doesn't it? ~~What? Used bleach did you? Industrial solvent? Can't say my hands are clean yet, so don't have a clue in hell how yours are.~~

P.S. What, me? Full of charm and grace, I am. A pleasure to be around. No clue. ~~Except it kept going on about threesomes. Weird place you've got here.~~

What, you thinking that I somehow have it in for you despite having any number of other hobbies to amuse myself with? Yes, that seems to be popping up a lot lately. ~~I'd like to think that shooting Thompson in the head and doing my little part in helping save New York from a nuclear blast helped a bit.~~

Yes, I think I see now why the Hat made that decision. The residents of the sparkly pink dorm might have a few things to learn from your bubbly personality. ~~Threesomes, really? Did I mention that the hat is insane?~~

No. Giving you too much credit. ~~...You shot Thompson? Good on you. God, you just can't stop, can you? And don't take credit where it's not due, Bennet, it makes you look petty.~~

Damn straight. Except I'm sodding allergic to pink, so the residents are on their own. ~~Thanks for the heads up, friend. Bit of warning wouldn't have been amiss.~~

~~Hang on - are you implying I can't have threesomes? Because I so could if I wanted to. Except that most people are wastes of time, and the ones that aren't tend to shoot you in the back.~~

Giving yourself too much credit, I'd say. While you're escaping the horrors of being surrounded by pink, I'm in a nice, comfortable, normal House ~~except for what looks to be a convenience store mislabeled "Food Libraries"~~ having a nice cup of coffee and a muffin. ~~Yes, he was trying to kill a telepathic cop I was working with at the time. I won't say I wasn't happy to do it. And I said little part. It was mostly Nathan, Peter, and the Nakamura boy.~~

I'm sure your dorm-mates feel nothing but regret over the loss of your singularly shining company. Yes, I was going to warn you while you were punching me in the face. I'm implying nothing about your desirability to one or more people, though I will say that you'll probably be luckier if you get rid of that "homeless crazy" look you're so fond of at the moment.

Ha! If anyone here has a bit of an ego problem, it's you. And what makes you think I'm not in a normal House? Security is incredibly lax here. And bit of coffee and muffin? ~~Please tell me you've branched out from Banana Nut.~~ Got your feet up and the little woman ironing your ties, too? Little vacation before you go back out and hunt more people down like dogs? You're working with my kind again? And protecting them? My, my things have changed. Got yourself a little grasshopper on the shoulder now, or was it just more convenient to shoot Thompson than the other guy?

And it was mostly Peter. End of story.

I'll just send them to you - you can tell them what they're missing. Hey, I've got good reason to disappear, friend. Being shot and left for dead will do that. 'Homeless crazy' am I? Well I know how things work, and being no one is the only way to get past you bastards. Least I'm not a smug son of a bitch on a self righteous horse trampling anyone who gets in my way.

Me? I'm not the one accusing someone who is very obviously minding their own business of trying to ruin their life! Who owled who first, huh? ~~There is NOTHING wrong with banana nut. NOTHING.~~ I tried to explain this earlier, I'm not going back. I'm in this for Claire, and Sandra, and ~~not~~ Lyle. I'm here to do what I can to learn how I can help them better. I'm done with hunting people unless they've done something to one of us first. Parkman was a decent guy. He's in the hospital at the moment, and I haven't heard from him. Sylar TK'd some bullets into him shortly after he slammed me into a wall and broke my arm in three places, don't you remember? Oh wait, you weren't there.

That's okay, you don't have to try and impress me with the sheer number of new friends you're making. ~~That's all it ever is these days with you, isn't it? I feel bad about it. It's not like I've been parading that information all around the school. I might be smug, but I also bathe regularly.~~

You don't have to try. Seems like you catch on to the life ruining like a natural, mate. Oh, and no worries. You won't hear from me again, you arrogant twat. ~~Except it's boring. And predictable. And blueberry is better.~~ Sorry if I don't believe you. Bad habit of mine, really, not trusting men who'll shoot their partners. Yeah, I've met Sylar. Nice work the Company did, letting him out and about with the normal folks. Do you count that blood on your hands as well, or have you had to stop seeing the deaths you didn't directly cause in order to save your precarious hold on sanity?

And who says I wasn't?

Regular Mr. Popularity, I am. ALL IT EVER IS? You have NO IDEA, you worthless, two-faced, idiotic little man. You feel bad? I TRUSTED YOU. I got IN the BLOODY CAR because I thought you were MORE than just a little automaton brainwashed into believing every company line fed into your thick skull.

I bathe. Just because I don't show up on most people's radars doesn't mean I can't steal a nice, hot shower when I need it.

Right. Like I'm going to believe that you're just going to leave me alone. What's next, are you going to hide Kool-aid in my shower? ~~They're delicious. Blueberry is an inferior muffin.~~

(There is a rather large block of text angrily scribbled out and nearly illegible. The words "accident" and "stubborn jackass" are barely visible among the scratches and blotches of ink.)

Go. To. Hell.

Been there, Noah, and it's your bullets that put me there.

Well, I'd promise to never talk to you again, but your wife seems to like me just fine.

Fuck you.

Leave Sandra out of this. She has NOTHING to do with this.

Hey, friend, don't get your panties in a twist over me. Sandra's the one who invited me to Sunday supper. She said something about a chocolate cheesecake, and how could I resist?

~~YOU SUCK.~~

Do you have any new food allergies or preferences that I should let her know about?

~~Told you I was charming.~~

What, you don't remember? I'm hurt.

I said new. ~~I'm a heartless bastard, not a mental defective, remember?~~

Well, I do have this aversion, now, to metal. Funny, that.

~~You're both. I always did think more of you than everyone else.~~

Should I ask her to make turkey legs then? Maybe we can even pretend it's just like ye olde renfest (http://www.scarboroughrenfest.com/) too.

~~You keep saying that. Think I'm too stupid to pick up on it? Oh right--I'm mentally defective now.~~

Nah. Throwing the bones on the floor in the normal tradition would probably mess up her pretty kitchen. Besides, the era you're looking for is the Revolutionary War.

~~Mate, I always thought you were a bit slow. Good egg, but slow. Now you're just a bastard and slow.~~

I take it you want eggs, then. Too bad they're more of a breakfast food.

Right, and I know how much you like to obey the letter of the law. Not a drop of rebel blood in Mrs. Bennet's son, that's for sure.

Wonderful. Should I ask Sandra to make chocolate pancakes and hash browns too? Oh, I know, let's have pizza and sushi as well. We can mix it all together and eat it with no utensils, out of respect for your metal allergy.

Oh, yeah, sounds great. Maybe some cold cereal and a bit of blow it out your ass, fuckface?

Real mature, there, Claude. Reallly, I've heard Lyle come up with better.

Sorry. My skills at witty back and forth seem to fade when I'm talking with someone I don't give a crap about. Also, I hope Sandra likes the necklace.

You're going through an awful lot of effort to send owl mail to people you don't give a crap about. I'd rather you tried to get your people skills back by Sunday. I'd hate to upset Sandra.

You son of a bitch.

Oh, I'm actually really bored. And this bleeding owl keeps coming back, so I figure, what the hell? And Sandra likes me just as I am, friend. Won't change a thing. I think she'll enjoy hearing stories of our times together.

She's already going to be wondering about the CDs. You're welcome, by the way.

~~Careful, mate, that's my mum you're talking about. Not my fault I just know how to treat a woman.~~

CDs?

~~I really didn't want to know that about you and your mother, Claude.~~

Ask your wife.

~~Not what I meant and you know it, bloody pervert.~~

You ~~remembered~~ didn't have to do that. I'd apologize for the Carousel CD but she meant well.

~~Next time don't make it so easy, then.~~

~~Of course I remembered, how could I not?~~ Yeah, well. How else were you going to ride off to drag another innocent person to their vivisection if you didn't have your road trip music?

Eh, what can you do? Besides, June is Busting Out All Over is a classic.

~~You just have your mind in the gutter.~~

~~Thanks. The cover got torn on the old one and~~ I don't know, maybe I could haul you along and you could talk them to death first, as a mercy killing.

~~Yeah, your son, Sandra told me. God, your son. I'd forgotten~~ My dazzling conversational skills are killer, I know, but if you think that I ~~miss riding around with you~~ am going to ever get in a car with you again, you're smoking something.

~~I know, all those years of nothing and then~~ Yes, because every time I get in a car with someone I have to shoot them. I don't know how my kids have survived my taking them to school for so long. I (Here there is a few words' worth of scribbles obscuring the rest of this.)

~~I knew you'd be a great dad, you~~ Hey, how do I know it hasn't become a habit? Maybe it's just people who consider you ~~a brother~~ a partner? Or possibly only on bridges? Too risky, mate, sorry.

~~...thanks. Really.~~ Ah yes, the siren song of bridges. Because Lord knows I can't drive over one without the urge to shoot everything that moves with absolutely no provocation.

~~Well, you managed not to kill Claire in the first week, so it was a pretty safe bet.~~ See, and here all this time I'd thought it was me. Should have known it was the damn bridge.

Oh, yeah, and the fact that you're a bastard. That point can't be forgotten.

~~I think a lot of that might have been her and Sandra's doing more than mine. You were what~~ Well, it's not like you're going to let anyone forget it. I might as well start making business cards.

~~What what?~~ Oh, that'll be charming. 'Noah Bennet. Bounty man and all round bastard. Call for vivisection pick-up service. Does not do bridges.'

To Whom it May Concern:

If you knew Noah, you'd know he already owns the autographed box set.

Sincerely,
Sandra Bennet

Sandra,

Course I know that. I bloody gave them to him. I just ~~assumed he'd have chucked them over the bridge with the rest of our friendship~~ didn't know if he had the updated cast version.

He's had that set for years. Keeps it in a special display case in the Den. Grounded Lyle for a ~~year~~month, because he took it to school without asking and ripped the cover.

I'm sure he'll appreciate the updated version.

...Who is this?

-Sandra

(Most of the note is scribbled out heavily, so much so that it's torn in places. All that's readable is:)

Sandra,

I didn't think he still (much scribbling)

You finally had a son? (scribble scribble)

Yeah, well, play it loud enough to drown out his horrible off-key rendition of Memory.

Me? I'm... no one.

Of course he does.

Yes, we did. His name's Lyle. He's a bit of a hypochondriac.

Don't forget his tone-deaf interpretation of Magical Mister Mistoffelees.

You sound like someone to me.

-Sandra

(Owl is carrying a clumsily wrapped package, which contains a necklace that most definitely was stolen (http://www.glamforless.com/goldjewelry7.jpg). But stolen in ~~love~~ a desperate flailing need to respond to a gift, which he is very much out of practice in receiving.)

Sandra,

Thank you for the brownies. And congratulations on Lyle. I'm sure you and Noah are... Very proud. Tell him...tell him Happy Father's Day from me.

How is Claire? I hope (More scribbling.) She's a remarkable girl. You're very lucky.

I stopped being someone seven years ago. ~~Ask your husband.~~

If you like the brownies, you should try my chocolate cheesecake. I'll be serving it at Sunday dinner. You're more than welcome to come.

Claire is healthy and safe. I couldn't ask for more - although she is at that age where she thinks she needs to be on a diet. I'm a very blessed woman. And I'll be sure to send Noah your regards.

For someone who's not anyone, you have lovely taste in jewelry. Thank you.

-Sandra

Sandra,

I... That's very...

Yeah. All right.

-Claude Rains

If the Invisible Man sends owls, would he write in Invisible Ink?

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Return owl, parts of it looking like the writer was about to snap the quill that wrote it

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Return Owl, lightly warded

Owl returns, looking kind of scared

Return Owl, carrying a touring-cast recording of Carousel

Return owl, carrying a daisy that Claude totally stole from Rachel's garden

Return owl, carrying a tin of homemade brownies.

Return owl, lots of scribbles as if the writer had no idea what to say

Return Owl, with Sunday dinner's location and date scribbled on the back.

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