[the basement is getting fuzzy, but that might just be panic. derealization is a symptom of panic. kavinsky caps the syringe and plugs the iv back into the bag.
the tube wiring down to sylar's arm is turning a weird color. clear-blue and red blood don't mix too well, in terms of if you were going to attempt to paint a masterpiece with only those two colors. they mix in funny strands like a barber's pole. winding down, down, down into the great vein in sylar's arm. kavinsky had not been responsible for the insertion of that needle, of course.]
Don't be an asshole, [he says.] You already know I got a thing about getting killed by shitty dickprint monsters. [he punctuates his point by punching sylar in the side of the head. not a lot of weight behind it. just enough to move the older man's head a couple of inches, spin his brain about before it settles into its new bath.]
no subject
the tube wiring down to sylar's arm is turning a weird color. clear-blue and red blood don't mix too well, in terms of if you were going to attempt to paint a masterpiece with only those two colors. they mix in funny strands like a barber's pole. winding down, down, down into the great vein in sylar's arm. kavinsky had not been responsible for the insertion of that needle, of course.]
Don't be an asshole, [he says.] You already know I got a thing about getting killed by shitty dickprint monsters. [he punctuates his point by punching sylar in the side of the head. not a lot of weight behind it. just enough to move the older man's head a couple of inches, spin his brain about before it settles into its new bath.]