[ Sylar couldn't provide him with answers to the question why any more than he can say anything to the what. His gaze is intense, so very intense, and he's alternating between watching his hand and ... perhaps studying Peter's face, occasionally letting his eyes lock with his. Sylar's expression has softened just a little, from absolutely murderous to something else, and maybe, just maybe, it isn't just his not yet subdued fury that has him breathing so raggedly.
The control and dominance he had over Peter a moment ago -- still has, is thrilling, and he's not coming down from that high. The way his fingers brush his neck is experimental, he's testing the waters but at the same time, taking, because that's what Sylar does. It's with an odd sort of delicacy that he touches his fingertips to the place where he can feel Peter's heart beat, presses his palm against his throat to feel his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and he's still watching, still staring, still saying absolutely nothing.
He could kill Peter, right now - press his fingers down and cut off his air supply, choke him, but he doesn't. If he wanted to, he could, and they both know this, but it never happens. ]
no subject
The control and dominance he had over Peter a moment ago -- still has, is thrilling, and he's not coming down from that high. The way his fingers brush his neck is experimental, he's testing the waters but at the same time, taking, because that's what Sylar does. It's with an odd sort of delicacy that he touches his fingertips to the place where he can feel Peter's heart beat, presses his palm against his throat to feel his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and he's still watching, still staring, still saying absolutely nothing.
He could kill Peter, right now - press his fingers down and cut off his air supply, choke him, but he doesn't. If he wanted to, he could, and they both know this, but it never happens. ]