He had no idea what Mohinder was trying to pull right now. Like he could tell, eyes still clenched shut, a fist rubbing against his eyes. Whatever it was, he definitely heard a click, something like the computer shutting down. That one bit less of a hum in the white noise of the room, it was enough to alert anybody's ears, never mind somebody with fucking super hearing. And here he'd thought the man would be going for a gun or whatever could take him down quickest. No, his first priority was... the computer? What the hell had been on that?
Sylar's eyes slit open in the slightest, barely able to see through the blur of his vision, just fixing his gaze on Mohinder for a moment. God, that stung like nothing he'd ever felt before. ...And he'd been shot. ...Several times over. Not to mention samurai swords through guts and fucking tuning forks - he'd had no clue how much that had actually hurt, did he? - and they could totally not go there right now and he'd be perfectly fine with that. "You're working out another formula, aren't you? You're making The List again."
He wasn't stupid. People didn't go for conserving electricity first and then deal with the raving sociopath in front of them. Kind of tended to be the opposite of that, as a general rule. Mohinder was definitely doing something. It was just, again, that 'what' that was starting to eat at Sylar, and he needed damn answers.
Heel of his hand pressed back to one of his eyes - right, as if that was going to fix anything, and there were magical cures for this kind of thing, right? - he didn't quite relinquish his hold on Mohinder's arm yet. Instead, the telekinesis slunk up the length of his arm, tighter, giving a harsh tug back towards Sylar, at least a few good feet. "Right, because I'm entirely inclined to do that when you just spoke of plans to get me out. When you sprayed mace in my eyes." With that kind of poisonous tone that just oh-so-promised that a bruised arm wasn't going to be his only problem, in a minute. His eyes were still open, damn the burn, as he squinted best he could through the haze over his vision. God, and he'd thought getting shot was bad. "Give me one good reason, again? Why I should let you go?"
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Sylar's eyes slit open in the slightest, barely able to see through the blur of his vision, just fixing his gaze on Mohinder for a moment. God, that stung like nothing he'd ever felt before. ...And he'd been shot. ...Several times over. Not to mention samurai swords through guts and fucking tuning forks - he'd had no clue how much that had actually hurt, did he? - and they could totally not go there right now and he'd be perfectly fine with that. "You're working out another formula, aren't you? You're making The List again."
He wasn't stupid. People didn't go for conserving electricity first and then deal with the raving sociopath in front of them. Kind of tended to be the opposite of that, as a general rule. Mohinder was definitely doing something. It was just, again, that 'what' that was starting to eat at Sylar, and he needed damn answers.
Heel of his hand pressed back to one of his eyes - right, as if that was going to fix anything, and there were magical cures for this kind of thing, right? - he didn't quite relinquish his hold on Mohinder's arm yet. Instead, the telekinesis slunk up the length of his arm, tighter, giving a harsh tug back towards Sylar, at least a few good feet. "Right, because I'm entirely inclined to do that when you just spoke of plans to get me out. When you sprayed mace in my eyes." With that kind of poisonous tone that just oh-so-promised that a bruised arm wasn't going to be his only problem, in a minute. His eyes were still open, damn the burn, as he squinted best he could through the haze over his vision. God, and he'd thought getting shot was bad. "Give me one good reason, again? Why I should let you go?"