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Detention.

Why was he getting detention? He was the victim here! ...And, for once, that was true. Totally true. Forgiving the part where he'd... kind of snapped her neck. But for serious. Rachel had been the one to bust in. Rachel had been the one to throw the first punch. She'd instigated! She'd stabbed him with machetes! She'd stolen things! It was all-over a mess! For all interests into turning his train of thought into a fourth grader's: She started it!

She'd best be getting a detention as well. Things wouldn't be ending well if he was being the only one punished here. Particularly with the still-cracked ribs. And the limp, due to a machete blade clean through his thigh. Aaaand and inability to raise his arm above mid-chest level, because of another through the shoulder. It was a fun time. No, really, everyone fight your own Rachel Morgan. It ends with much blood. Plenty of it. Even pissing it out, thanks to kidney shots. It was another thing, bruising all up his left flank, from where she'd punched him - and hard, he hadn't even had room to block that one - and... Sylar was not in pretty shape.

He'd survived samurai swords through the gut! He could take this!

Nevertheless, here he was. Showing up for detention. Decidedly not looking any inch the happy camper, hunched over a bit, hands shoved into the pockets of a ratty black hoodie and jeans. His default outfit, really, and the closest thing he got to 'clothes for work'. "Is SHE coming too?" he spat, a bit too grouchily to be greeting, as he was making his way into the Hospital Wing, six o'clock on the nose. As if he had the capacity to be late.

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Looking up from where she was changing a house elf's dressing, Lily's eyebrow arched. "Good evening, Mr. Sylar," she said, clearly unimpressed with his attitude. "And if you're referring to Ms. Morgan, then of course. She was involved as well, was she not?"

Straightening up, Lily glanced at her watch. "Go ahead and have a seat over there," she nodded towards the waiting area. "Once Rachel arrives then I'll show you your tasks for the evening."

Eyes narrowing, though, Lily then reached out to stop him. "Are you hurt, Mr. Sylar?" she asked, gaze quickly becoming clinical as she studied him. "You were limping."

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"Involved?" Sylar automatically replied in a scoff, eyebrows raising. "She was the instigator. I was in my tent. She came in out of nowhere and punched me." Yet he got the detention. Life was vastly unfair, yo. "But, by all means, give me detention." No, really. It was appreciated. His goal in life, really, to... clean out bedpans, or whatever she had in mind for him to be doing today. Whatever it was, he was very certain to not like it. Had had a kind of affixed interest on keeping things neat, that obsessive compulsive tendency he honed, but this was a whole other level.

He'd just been moving to sit, too - incredibly irritably, but, sitting - when she was reaching out and stopping him with a hand. His eyes narrowed down to the woman, almost a foot shorter than him, as he subconsciously let his eyes flicker downward, to his thigh, his shoulder, his side. "It's nothing," he commented darkly, unflinchingly staring down to her. "What Rachel did."

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"You snapped her neck," Lily said. A faint edge of coldness, of warning in her tone. "Do not pretend to be innocent with me, Mr. Sylar. You, in essence, killed her. It is only because of some very ancient and very powerful magic that we are not having an extremely different conversation right now."

At his admission of injury, however, her expression changed. Everyone deserved treatment, no matter her personal opinion on the individual. Shaking her head with a rueful sigh, Lily took his arm gently and led him over to a bed. Pulling the curtain around them, she handed him a gown. "Change," she demanded softly. "I'll take care of you. There is no need for you to walk around in pain, you know." Wand out, Lily lifted a spare chart and started writing quickly easing out of the curtained-off space to give him privacy.

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That same sort of icy cold was automatically sinking over Sylar's features, glazing over the irritation to something far more numb and... well, yes, worlds of pissed off. "She deserved it," he growled under his breath, something in his shoulders bristling, as he let his eyes wander the room. Corners, they were very interesting, of course. As well as chairs. Chairs had always been intriguing to him. "For what she did."

And... what? Why was she grabbing onto his arm? Not in a harsh or foreboding way, just... leading. Huh? He let his eyebrows slant downward again, as his fingers wrapped uneasily around the flimsy cotton, and something indeterminable flashing past his eyes. Why was he so suddenly reminded of Primatech? That hospital sort of setting... spending days on a slab of concrete, unsure of his own damned name from all the drugs they were pumping into his system. And the cockroach, of course, damn enormous thing, crawling all over, unheeded. "Change. Change, why? No." Randomly adamant about something that... probably shouldn't have mattered.

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"No one deserves that," Lily replied. There was something harsh in her tone, something knowing. As if she'd seen things beyond what Sylar had and was exasperated with a child who insisted that the world was the sum total of their own limited experience.

Rolling her eyes at him, she gave him a small smile. "Because I'm good, but I'm not good enough to examine you through your clothes." The smile widened, faintly teasing. She was in Healer mode, working to set him at ease. Lily rested her hand lightly in Sylar's shoulder. "I do have ways to make you change without your consent, but they're not nearly so easy. All I want to do is make sure you're all right. Heal up anything that needs it. If you have wounds, we'd best make sure they're not infected. Now, go ahead and change, and I'll be back in in a moment, yeah?"

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Sylar's own eyes flared to the floor, irritably, teeth gritting and an inexplicable urge to smash the nearest object starting to ooze into his bones like an ache. "You don't know that," he commented in return, simply, as his fists tightened in the pockets of his hoodie, some manner of that same iciness still settling onto his features.

Examine him? "I thought I was here for detention," he added lightly, an eyebrow slowly raising in question. That comment, the way she said it sounded somewhere between threatening and unorthodox. He didn't like it. Still. Even having lived with a doctor for weeks now, there was only so much Wilson could have done - he wasn't exactly the master on medical magic, yet, and without supplies... Well, Wilson was kind of overall useless at Hogwarts.

Sylar paused for a few long seconds nonetheless, frowning down at the hospital gown, and managed to suppress most of the wince when her hand landed right onto his bandaged wound. Okay, okay. Maybe he did need a little assistance. This place wasn't exactly the same as normal hospitals. Not as many questions. "Fine," he ground out, through gritted teeth, digging his nails into the cotton of the gown.

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"I do." Again that unflinching certainty and Lily meeting Sylar's eyes as if she could see into him, examine every part of him. Calm and steady, she said, "There is nothing that justifies that. There are circumstances which create an apparent need, but taking another life shouldn't be done lightly. It should never be done without feeling its affects afterward, or else you become just as much of a monster as the people you claim deserve death."

Eyebrows raising, Lily said, "You are. But you're hurt. If you were here to sodding rob the place, I'd still treat you. Now put on your gown."

Stepping outside, giving him a chance to change while she jotted down notes, Lily then reentered the bedside area, eyes sweeping over Sylar. Her wand was already dancing out, running scans, wincing as she saw the injuries. "Next time," she said dryly, grabbing her supplies, "just come see me first. There was no need for you to be in pain all this time. I'll have you back to normal in a few minutes."

The stitches she took out, looking at them in a fascinated manner. Muggle medicine was just so interesting. She healed the stab wounds completely, reset the ribs, and then gently spread the bruise paste into his side. Her touch was light, professional, cool fingers moving quickly along where he had been bruised and broken.

When she finished, she wiped off her hands and gave him a crooked smile. "Here," she handed him two pills and a glass of water. "That'll take care of any lingering pain. And you're all set. Go ahead and get dressed again. I'll see if Rachel is here, yet."

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Sylar's lips managed to quirk up, in a slow sort of smirk as Lily spoke. Like he had to explain himself to her. She didn't know his reasoning. She didn't know anything that he felt afterward. She had no idea. Thou shalt not kill, it was in the Bible. The Ten Commandments. Of course there was regret linked to killing. It wasn't as if it was his choice for people to die. They had to. "Luckily, I considered every option first," he snarked back, a bit coldly. "Don't worry."

And here he was. Sylar. Taking orders from a woman at least two heads shorter than him. Granted, Lily Evans was not all she appeared to be - she tended to be so much more than that, released in various bursts - but... still. Principle of the matter. Yet, he listened to her. It took slightly longer to change than it would have normally, bruised limbs and all that, but it wasn't long before he was in the hospital gown and she was back in.

Examining. Probing eyes and, no, this wasn't Primatech. This wasn't Hank, the doctor with the rough hands, the dolt who could barely even get a damned IV into a vein correctly, God only knew how he got a shunt in. It felt like he was back there, some sort of psychosomatic thing in his head. Whatever. He didn't know. Maybe just the way that Lily was surveying the stitches as if she'd never seen the things before. Not the most reassuring of things in the world.

And yet... wow. This... She healed all of that. Wand magic and some strange paste, and... the pain was gone. In moments. Not tissue regeneration, of course - magic - and... how did he get a hold of this? Gain control of it? He hardly had to go after Claire if he had access to things like this. Some things, of course, that might not have been able to be cured by magic, but damn.

"Two pills," he replied in a slow sort of voice, eyebrows slowly raising to Lily in disbelief, once she'd finished. "That's it."

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"Then you're nowhere near as powerful as you imagine," Lily said, eyebrow arching. "Murder is the cheap out of the unimaginative." A slow grin crossed her face, entirely mirthless and cold. "There are other options. If you can't manage them, then I suppose you're just a brainless killer, yeah?"

Setting his chart in the appropriate pile, Lily nodded. "That's it. You probably won't even need those, but better safe and all that." The smile cracked larger. "Told you I was good."

Leaving the curtained area, she found Rachel, waiting in the doorway. The other woman's body was thin, too thin, and her eyes were overlarge and fixed on Lily's face. "You're late," Lily told her, an edge of concern in her voice.

Merlin, she looked like death.

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The owl had made me laugh. It hadn't been a happy laugh; at least, not so far as I can tell. The harsh noise had startled me, had scared the bird away. So no return note to the good Professor. Just me showing up at the Hospital Wing in a dress that God knew where I'd gotten it (http://www.lip-service.com/style.php?season=web_fetish&shop_by=body&body_type=DRESS&group=&style=27-167&k=4) and a pair of heels (http://images.icnetwork.co.uk/upl/icnewcastle/jan2005/8/3/0004B118-1B7E-11F6-85A180BFB6FA0000.jpg) that made my hips do interesting things when I walked.

The hunger was more intense, now, but strangely easier to ignore. Like a stone in your heel. Even when it was infected, it'd gotten to the stage where I just expected it.

Standing in the doorway, I watched the woman emerge from a curtained off area. "Sorry," I murmured, voice low and rough.

Lily - that was her name, I remembered now - stared at me for a second before nodding. "You and Mr. Sylar will be cleaning out bedpans. I'll be in the back if you need anything." Giving me another look, she nodded to the both of us and left the room.

My eyes swiveled to Sylar. A slow, hungry smile curved up my lips.

"Hi."

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Brainless, kind of interesting choice of adjective when Sylar was involved. "Luckily, nobody can die here," he commented lightly, eyebrows slanting downward towards Lily, irritable in light of accusations towards his being unimaginative. "Her neck corrected itself, interesting all in itself."

She was good. Very good. He'd have to look into this later. Sylar downed the pills, after a brief second's hesitation, of course - this was still Lily, he wasn't exactly to the point where he could trust her yet, after all. Setting the cup on the counter, he let his eyes flare to her, one last time, critically. "Thank you," he said, after a moment, and definitely meant it.

Anyway. Very much out of this robe. Now.

By the time he'd gotten back into his own clothes, Converse back on his feet and t-shirt and hoodie tugged on with quite a bit more ease, thank you, Lily, really. Things would have been better, if he hadn't exited the curtained area to see... that. She looked better since he'd seen her, naturally, but that wasn't all too difficult to do, naturally. There was a kind of rigidity to his stance upon laying eyes on her, and a definitely fight against just throwing her into the nearest wall, even when Lily left and there wasn't exactly a supervisor around to keep them from beating the crap out of each other.

What was that smile for? She seemed... different. He didn't know how. He didn't like that smile. "Hi." He answered back, just rather bluntly. What was with that dress? Pleather or something. "That's not the best of outfits for cleaning out bedpans," he added, a bit stupidly, narrowing his eyes.

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Mmm...I knew him. I'd drawn his blood. My vampire instincts immediately put him in the 'prey' category and my eyes flared completely to black. "Oh, I don't know," I practically purred, sauntering forward in a smooth kind of grace that would have been impossible for me as a witch. "I think this outfit is good for a lot of different things."

Up close I took a breath of him, drawing in his scent, my smile curling up even more as I met his eyes. "You're all put back together," I crooned, running my finger in a lazy pattern across his shoulder. "Not even a mark left. Pity. I do so love to mark a man."

My eyes flashed dangerously and I moved closer, definitely in his personal space, definitely oozing out pheromones to make sure he liked it that way. "You hurt me, Sylar." The words were murmured, low. I couldn't control this. Part of me didn't want to. I didn't give a damn about Sylar. I could take him and it wouldn't mean anything. I could be sane on his blood, make him my shadow, and it would be sweet. He would beg me for it. Fitting, for a man who'd killed Peter. Who'd killed me. I could tame him. God, how I wanted to tame him.

"I liked it."

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...What was she doing? Her movements were almost catlike, as she approached him, and there was a highly provocative way that her body was moving. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with this. Finger trailing across his shoulder, almost teasing, and this was... strange. Strange wasn't a strong enough word to convey just what this was, in all actuality. She was staring and smiling and... was she smelling him?

"How very sadistic of you," he replied in turn, eyebrow raised as she stepped in closer. In any other situation, he'd be uncomfortable. There was a difference between his getting into someone else's personal bubble someone leaning in real close to his. This? Was unsettling. Or at least... it started that way. With Sylar starting to lean back, to make some dry comment that she was far too close for comfort.

And, yet, the other part of him? Wasn't caring right now. Almost as if he was drugged or something. It was strange, she was leaning in, eyes flashing. He wasn't minding. More the opposite of that, really. "Liked it," he replied, a little too slowly to be nonchalant, as his eyes trailed across her for a few long seconds. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, slightly faster, in her throat, in light of the conversation.

What the hell was this?

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My finger made its way up to slide across the hollow of his neck, to tease its way down the front of his chest. "Liked it," I murmured, looking at him from under hooded eyes. "Why do you think I came to you?"

Nail scraping lightly along the skin of his neck, up to gently brush around the outside of his ear. Skin so smooth it was just begging to be punctured, to be taken. "I knew you were better than me." I had no problem admitting it. Because the hunger was more important, seducing him into letting me take him was the only goal. Now my finger rubbed across his lips, my eyes watching, fascinated. "I knew you'd beat me."

I leaned in further so that my breath was hot and short along his cheek. "I wanted you to," I whispered into his ear. "You liked it, too. Don't tell me you didn't."

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Any other occasion, Sylar would probably be... Well, not 'freaking out'. It took a lot to rightly 'freak him out' anymore. Mohinder betraying Zane, drugging the chai, but even that delved more into the 'shock' category. Eden pressing the gun to her chin, in favor of what fate she would have met under Sylar's fingers. And his own mother's blood, streaked across his fingers, scissors jammed into her chest cavity... God...

But Rachel was... It was strange. Her tone of voice slipping its way under his skin and settling down for a sharp hold on his nerves, sending his hair up on end. Fingers ghosting across his skin and, damn, he didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling. This... he didn't get this. Heart pounding, blood oozing too hot through his veins... What was this? Taking pleasure in what she was saying. He would have disgusted himself if he could be held privy to this as an outside source right now.

Unfortunately, that option was not available, at the moment. Rachel was pressed close to lengths that would probably be uncomfortable, were it not for the pheremones addling his brain and keeping him from knowing just what to say right now. "I d..." he murmured under his breath, eyes shutting for a moment. Oh, yeah. He was lost in this. "I did."

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