The evening Clyde decided to take a walk outside was a peaceful one. No rambunctious children, no condescending classmates, nada. The stroll took him to the edge of the grounds, where it was nice and quiet, though perhaps a bit dark.

Just as Clyde neared one of the walls, he suddenly stopped to look back. For some reason, he had the funny feeling he was being watched. His eyes scanned his surroundings, but he saw no one.

It was probably nothing. The dark did tend to play tricks on people, after all. Being scared of it was just plain stupid. So, Clyde continued walking, quiet and not doing anything in particular.

Sylar had found himself stalking the grounds of this home for mutants a few nights since his first trip here. It was a safe place, and with it's community of mutants, a staging point for Sylar, allowing him to interact with others again. However his habits made him a bit disturbing to meet. He had been resting in a tree when he noticed movement in the night. A smaller signature, but warm, a male. A boy? Sylar waited a moment before creeping from his perch and following the boy silently.

He followed Clyde as he neared the wall, wondering what the boy was doing wandering around at this time of night. Sylar tensed as he noticed him turn around, scanning his surroundings. Sylar hadn't made a mistake? Perhaps he was heard, or the mutant could sense him? However Clyde turned and continued walking along the wall. Sylar relaxed, and closed in a bit, creeping like an mirage in the moonlight as he ascended the wall, waltzing like a cat behind Clyde.

The mansion was a place of "friendly" mutants, or at least that's how Sylar felt everytime he dropped in. So after a moment, he waiting till the light was strong enough to allow himself to be seen. He spoke up "A little late for a walk isn't it?" He question, his voice flat and non aggressive. He figured this way he wouldn't spook Clyde, at least not like he usually ended up doing. "You never know what goes bump in the night." His tail swayed back and forth behind him, clearly showing off his mutant heritage.

The atmosphere quiet, so Clyde thought he was by himself. Naturally, he jumped when he heard someone questioning him. He turned to face-

HOLY $#!^ A MONSTER!!!

Clyde stumbled backwards. He was lucky he didn't scream before he realized that this “monster” was actually probably just another Mansion resident. But despite having met other visibles, this particular mutant was possibly the most frightening one he'd seen thus far, with his claws and nasty-looking bladed tail and whatnot.

However, regardless of what the guy looked like, he was still a person, and he had spoken to him. Clyde knew it would be impolite if he acted like he was scared.

“Um... no, not really. It's not that late. A lot of othah people ah still up. Besides, I don't intend to leave the grounds. I'll be fine,” Clyde hastily replied, trying to act as if this guy never startled him in the first place.

Clyde's reaction wasn't particularly offensive or unexpected on Sylar. He was a monster, and people generally feared a monster. Though most Mutants tended to get over it a bit faster than the normal people might. His tail curled a bit, before resting upon the wall, it's blade falling limp against the brick. Sylar was assuming a non-threatening stance, at least in his mind. Sylar didn't have a watch, or eye sight to determine the time, however his lifestyle generally had him active at the later hours of the day, but perhaps the boy was right, some people stayed up later than others.

Sylar's senses could easily tell he'd startled Clyde, so he responded to it. "Sorry to spook you, but it's hard not to, looking like this." He said, with no hint of resentment or anger at Clyde's actions. "I'm a nightowl myself, so I thought it was weird to see a boy up at this hour." Sylar stated his thoughts clearly and without alteration, a creature of social bluntness. Sylar's vision didn't pick up any unusual shapes in Clyde's heat signature, nor did he notice anything out of the ordinary. He must be another normal looking mutant, unless it was something Sylar couldn't notice through thermal vision. "So you're a mutant too then?" He asked curiously.

Clyde felt bad; this guy had figured it out anyways. Luckily, he didn't seem mad about it (Though that didn't tell Clyde much; it was kind of hard to read the emotions of someone who looked the way this guy did). The way it sounded, this other mutant was really used to getting frightened reactions. Having perhaps the exact opposite problem, Clyde couldn't imagine what it would be like if everyone was afraid of him. He did have a pretty good guess that it stunk major time.

What this guy said about the hour was true. It was weird for boys to be up that late, but he was a teen. Seeing as this guy looked like a creature from a horror movie, he there wouldn't be any backlash if he explained his own situation. “Yeah, I am a mutant. But I'm actually seventeen. My mutation just makes things a bit confusing,” Clyde informed him.

Sylar remained perched atop the wall, his tail swaying behind him as he spoke with Clyde. No reaction was visible on his face as Clyde explained his mutation, Sylar had learned that trying to apply patterns to his fellow mutants was a silly idea. Such a wide variety of powers and changes they might as well all be individual species instead of one sub-species. "You're older than I am." He said without emotion, though he did find it a bit strange. "Guess I ought to be a bit more respectful." Sylar didn't care much for manners, but others seemed to be concerned with it, so he was trying to be a bit more "tolerable" when he spoke to other mutants.


"Do you not age?" He asked, curious of exactly what Clyde's difference was. Sylar's mutation was so clearly obvious, he never needed to explain it save for his lack of eyesight. He began to move, crawling down the wall like a movie monster or spider, his claws sinking into the stone like it was butter before making it to the ground, where he would be on a more even level with Clyde to talk with him.

Clyde looked at the guy, stunned. He was younger than him? “I... wouldn't have guessed that.”  The lack of normal human features must have been to blame yet again. It was, admittedly, kind of creepy.

As for the teen's inquiry: Did he age? That was a good question. “I don't know... Maybe?” The pants he was wearing were starting to run a tad on the short side, though they could have simply shrunk in the wash. Was he always going to be a kid? Did he just age real slowly? Or maybe something else happened when he found he could age shift. He didn't know anything for sure. “It's not really something I can learn right away. If you want to go fo technicalities, I can look a different age, but only fo a few howahs.”

By that time, Clyde noticed that this mutant had crawled down the wall, closer to him. Instinctively, Clyde shivered. No, no, no, he wasn't going to let himself be afraid of someone younger than him who probably wasn't even trying to scare him. “By the way, I'm Clyde. You ah?” He normally would have offered his hand to shake, but considering this teen had razor sharp claws, that sounded like a terrible idea.

Sylar didn't respond much physically, no shrugs or sighs, instead he simply stated. "My features can be hard to read." The armor growing on top of his body devoured his human features, and it's smooth surface was too alien for a human mind to really understand it. Sylar didn't understand much of his own mutation either, so he didn't feel the need to press the topic much further, just curious as to how an ageless mutants power functioned. "Kind of an interesting power though." Sylar said as he made it to the ground and stood up near Clyde, revealing his features a bit more, the armor mostly encasing his limbs and face, his human torso hidden beneath baggy clothes.

Sylar noticed the anxiety as Clyde reacted to his presence. He didn't get upset with Clyde though, this reaction was basically normal for Sylar, he was a monster after all. Sylar gently hid his clawed hands in the pocket of his hoodie, which had a few good cuts in it from other times he'd rested his hands there without thinking. "Clyde eh? I'm Sylar." Sylar said in a blunt response, his tone still a bit stoic as he conversed with Clyde. Sylar realized now that Clyde had an accent, he thought for a moment. "You've got an accent I just realized, not from New York?" Sylar asked, trying his best at what people called idle conversation.

Clyde nodded in agreement. Looking like a horror movie creature had to make it nearly impossible to communicate.

But, Clyde had to shake his head a bit at the remark about his power. Interesting? If that was the word the guy wanted to use, then fine. It wasn't the first time his mutation had been called that. However, Clyde still didn't get why people would think so; age shifting didn't seem so impressive to him.

As for the accent, Clyde only knew he had one because the New York people would occasionally say he did. It was usually something about him murdering his “R”s. “Yeah, I'm from Bawston, originally,” replied Clyde. “What about you? Have you lived at the Mansion long?”

"Boston eh?" That made sense, it'd been awhile since Sylar interacted with normal society as a whole, but he knew the accent now that Clyde had put a name to it. Clyde then asked if Sylar had lived here long, to which Sylar sternly replied. "I don't live here. A friend does, so sometimes I stop by to hang around the grounds." The knowledge that Sylar didn't live here probably shouldn't be too unnerving to most people, unless Sylar explained that he basically snuck onto the grounds a lot with permission from no resident here at the mansion.

Sylar lifted one of his claws up, flexing the inhuman appendange to show off the bladed claws. "I don't quite fit into regular every day life." He just sort of said aloud, wondering what it'd be like to even try being a regular person anymore. His weaponry and look were just too jarring for him to think of asking his way into the world of people or mutants who were still mostly normal. "It's a nice place to live though. I understand they take pretty good care of one another here." He said turning to look at the mansion. Sylar wondered how his friends here at the mansion were doing, if they're lives were mostly normal outside of their little run ins with the Monster of Manhattan.

"And you? Have you lived here since you found out you were different?" Sylar wasn't sure how other mutants went through the process of discovering their powers, and how the world reacted to those who were different, even if most of the others could still continue to fit in at large.

“Oh.” So Sylar didn't live at the Mansion. Where did he live? Considering Sylar's appearance and the way the general population reacted to mutants, Clyde guessed it wasn't at home with a loving family.

The whole thing about not fitting in went without saying. “It's a bit tricky fo me, too,” Clyde sighed. Not in the same way nor to the same degree, but still. “You know, this place takes a lot of people in. I bet they'd let you stay heah if you wanted.” Sylar claimed to have a friend at the place, so the topic had probably already been brought up, but Clyde figured he'd mention it anyway.

Sylar's last question was getting close to a matter Clyde didn't like talking about. “Em... no. I figuhed I was a mutant a while befoh I came heah,” he answered as simply as he could.

Sylar had been offered asylum here once before, but he wasn't ready for such an offer, and he still didn't believe this mansion was ready for him either. For now, it was just a safe haven when he needed it, and a place to make friends. "I guess looking one way and being older than that could get confusing." Sylar's words often came off as blunt or mean, when in reality he just wasn't so good at being friendly voice wise. "I'd been offered to stay here once before...but I'm not so good living above ground." Sylar hadn't told Clyde where he lived, but he'd grown a bit used to dwelling beneath the streets, and not on them.

Sylar could read fear, could read panic, could hear a persons heart beat ten feet away, but reading a social signal or the mood? Normally impossible. So he didn't realize his words might make Clyde uncomfortable or come off as rude or blunt. "Oh. You an orphan as well?" He asked coldly, since he himself had cut all ties to his parents three years ago. "My change started three years ago, been alone ever since." He said aloud, explaining a bit about his character and lifestyle with no real intent to.

Confusing was truly an understatement. The discrepancy was more than confusing. It meant about everyone around him held him to a lower standard. Most people treated him as a joke.

“Suit yoself.” Sylar's refusal to stay at the Mansion didn't surprise Clyde. Choosing a subway station or wherever it was Sylar lived over a room at the Mansion did border on bizarre, but Sylar's reasoning made enough sense. It sounded like something he'd need to ease into, especially if he was used to sleeping at a subway station or whatever that underground place was.

“No, I have parents. I just 'disowned' one of them, if you must know.” His fists balled up at the very thought. “And yes, my mutation was involved.” Dear Old Dad, the mutant bigot with a pen, the man that thought he could deny away his son's condition. Oh God, Mom and Bryce were probably worried sick. Clyde knew he should try to contact them, but didn't know how to go about doing so. As for Dad, he couldn't care less.

Sylar had less issue talking to Clyde than he did with some of the other's he'd met recently. Alot of people tended to press certain topics, or not settle for simple answers. This conversation though, seemed to shift between each of them giving a thought that might be best left alone, and the other respecting that wish. It was nice not having to explain everything, considering Sylar was so bad at normal conversation.

So Clyde hated one of his parents? Probably a mutant hater like both of Sylar's parents had been. "I see. Both of my parent's disowned me. In fact the first person to call me a monster was my mother." Sylar's voice never wavered, holding that sort of soulless tone he usually had. He didn't care about either of his parents anymore, the human Sylar having died the night he went underground and emerged as Manhattan's Predator. "And it was because of my first change as well." Sylar finished, not trying to out do Clyde, but simply sharing that his experience was similar in a way when it came to a prent.

Clyde's eyes widened. “Yo mothah did that?” Positively horrifying! That went against a mother's nature completely. “She sounds like the real monstah.”

Since this was life story time...

“My dad... he hates mutants. Acts like they all go nuts and destroy stuff and kill people. Don't ask me how he got that in his head; I don't know myself. It doesn't help that he writes stuff fo the papahs. He knew I stayed a kid, of course, but I don't really fit his 'big scary mutant' image, so he was content to dismiss it as some whacked-up medical condition. I believed it at first, but when I started to suspect and tried talking to him, he'd get mad, deny it, and accuse me of rebelling. Eventually, I'd had enough and came heah.”

Clyde exhaled heavily after saying all that. Wow. He couldn't believe he'd just told someone about his experience. “I said nothing. Right?” he asked, hoping Sylar would have no problem keeping that secret.