This was all unbelievably surreal. Here he was, filling up a glass of water to fix the eyes of the person he'd just sprayed with Mace -- who was, by the way, his father's killer. Mohinder stared at himself in the mirror with a bleak expression, halfway expecting his reflection to start shouting at him. Or possibly just shake his head in disgust. Why not? He was disgusted with himself.

He wondered if he could get away with putting lye in the water and decided that he probably couldn't. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his face in his hands, digging his fingers into his hair. He couldn't believe he was doing this. As if they were friends.

He looked up when Sylar's voice cut through his own inner monologuing, brow creasing. The virus? Why did Sylar care about the virus? At least it was better than him asking about the List. Mohinder sighed and straightened, turning on the sink. "It affects people with abilities," he replied loudly. "I think it might be spreading." Maybe, if he was lucky, he thought grimly, Sylar would pick it up from his next victim-- oh, that was a really awful thing to think, wasn't it? Mohinder winced and glared at his reflection.