ext_41065 ([identity profile] mmm-brainz.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] hh_mirror 2007-10-07 03:02 am (UTC)

...Was there a way to word this into any simpler terms?

No, really, Sylar wanted to know. Because he didn't think he could make this any clearer for the man. He wanted... what was in that bureau. Mohinder... was going to get it for him. Mohinder was going to like getting it for him, goddammit, even if Sylar had to drag the guy across the room and make his hands go straight through the freaking dresser drawers to retrieve it. It was a very, very simplistic concept, and yet the geneticist was not able to understand this plan.

This wasn't going to work out. Sylar was trying to play dictator here and Mohinder was throwing some kind of... resistance or something to complete the metaphor. He wasn't listening. He was just repeating that, those two little words that had Sylar's eye twitching in irritation as he marched over to the man and clapped that hand onto his shoulder. Resistance, yes, and Mohinder was rebelling to said plan.

Very violently so. ...Actually, that kind of... really stung. Ow.

Okay, so Sylar, as a human being, had dealt with mace. On the other end. You didn't grow up a scrawny watchmaker's son with a bowl cut, in Queens, without a psychotically protective mother making you keep mace inside your lunch box - including singular incidents where the mace got onto his tuna sandwich and, disaster, he did not care to revisit such an occasion. Of course, that was that aforementioned other end. Having mace and getting mace straight into your eyes were two entirely different events, and... ow.

Sylar's hands were at his eyes without a moment to spare, a sharp hiss of pain bursting through his clenched teeth. Not expecting that out of Mohinder, he had to admit. The guy had spunk. ...If that's what you would call it. But a gun! Whatever happened to old fashioned guns? Those were fun to watch people fail with! This just stung! Mohinder's shove caught him off-guard, disorientation and all, sprawled backwards against the dresser, goddammit. His eyes were watering and he definitely threw out an arm, invisible forces meaning to throw Mohinder against the floor or some opposite wall or, damn, just away.

He couldn't see.

...Mohinder maced him!

...This was war.

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