Sylar was entirely captivated with this moment, his fear of her, of what he needed to do to be rid of her. It left him weak, following Alma's every word. Though she was on the sharp end of a blade, in reality she held the power between the two at this point. He'd never held a knife, a weapon which was useless to him, his eyes unable to see which end was the killing one. But now he firmed grasped her blade in his claw, the dulled feeling through his claws entirely new to him. His eyes couldn't perceive her scar, all he could see was the cold void in his hand, pressing against the yellow of her body.

Her grip caused Sylar to try and pull his hand back, her resolve terrified him. Sylar was a creature of fear, always afraid, or hoping to scare everyone away. He wasn't ready, who was this woman, why did she have to attack him, why did any of this happen. It was a nightmare of attention he never wanted. Sylar was a timid boy before he was a mutant, and even with strength to break down a brick wall, speed to put Olympians to shame, and a tail that could slice through metal, he was still timid at heart. Within him was the instinct of a ferocious predator, a born killer waiting to escape, but he hadn't crossed that line, and until then, he didn't have the will to compete with Alma.


He listened to her every word, her name, her relatives, her personality. He knew she was a mutant, that he shouldn't need to kill one of his own kind, but he'd been so confused he had no idea what to do but kill what threatened him. He responded, his voice shaky and without confidence. "I...I'm just a kid" Sylar only just turned fifteen, he wasn't even old enough to have done any of the fun stuff in high school. "My parent's abandoned me, I have no friends..." A depressing but true statement, Sylar had always been alone, even the mutants he'd met so far weren't friends to the boy. "All I have is my life, I..I couldn't let that go." He'd been furious to be attacked, and had wanted to terrify her to get rid of her, he'd never wanted to hurt her for the sake of violence, but only defense. He couldn't help his instincts, his nature, no one could.

"I just want to be left alone. Safe in the shadows." Sylar's grip on the knife weakened, and the blade dropped to the stone below, the sound echoing through out the room. "I can't live up there, so I just wanted to hide down here..." He'd lost the will entirely to hurt Alma, she'd shook his mind too much, shattered his killing intent and left him confused. Sylar hated normal people, and didn't like that other mutants looked perfectly normal compared to him, but most predators won't hurt their own kind, and Sylar didn't want to kill a mutant, not because he was just a stupid scared kid.

The boy was silent as Alma moved, and it was then that the woman knew she had him. Though his mutation had warped him, she knew that deep down, he had no killer intent. He was scared. And when a woman faced her fate boldly and called his bluff, his argument crumpled. Trust was not an option, killing her was the only solution… but he was not yet ready to take that step. The knife, however, was still pointed into her stomach, waiting for the final thrust.

>> "I...I'm just a kid… My parent's abandoned me, I have no friends... All I have is my life, I..I couldn't let that go… I just want to be left alone. Safe in the shadows… I can't live up there, so I just wanted to hide down here..."

Alma exhaled a sigh of relief as the knife dropped. She could hear the loss of will in the boy’s voice, but until the final admonishment, she had still had the blade pointed towards her gut. Alma laughed breathlessly, without humor, tears spilling freely from her eyes. She’d been so frightened, so certain that her ploy wouldn’t have worked… for a moment, she had thought that death was truly imminent. Alma released the kid’s hand, and brought her own hands to her face, her shoulders shuddering as relieved tears streamed from her eyes.

She was just… so floored… that it had worked. She murmured in Spanish, mopping at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“I would never turn you in,” Alma avowed, her tone still shaking, “Ever, okay? We’re mutants, kid. We need to look-out for each other. Besides which, I’m technically in-hiding, too. I’d never expose someone like that.”

Alma slowly reached for her knife, closed it, and wedged it into her bag. The closed blade clanked against the stolen canned food. Alma grinned—she’d have to give that back before they left. She let out a yawn. The adrenaline was slowly trickling out of her system, leaving her shivery, tired, and rather miserable-feeling overall. She wasn’t in the condition to leave at this very moment.

Alma got up, slowly, her joints creaking in protest.

“If you would… show me the way out… I will leave, and not come back,” Alma promised, “And I will not tell anyone that you are here, or that I saw you in the store… if that is what you wish. But-“

Alma paused, peering into the darkness as she spoke.

“The marks that you left when you cut through the metal door are very distinct,” she cautioned, “They will know to come looking for a mutant, when no human explanation can be found.” She peered into the darkness, draping her bag over her shoulder. “You would be safer in a group of mutants… of your own kind. If you’re interested… there is an aboveground place… the place I live, where it is all mutants. Very safe. Some of them have bad reputations that would make you and I look like saints… but it keeps the police, and the humans, out… You’d have your own room, plenty of food, and the freedom to walk about without hiding.”

Alma smiled faintly, “At night, the surrounding streets are pretty dead. I know a few quiet alleys that could get you pretty far, and I’m sure you know the underground like second-nature, so it is not like you would be trapped against your will. Just a thought for you to consider.”

Sylar wasn't sure how to perceive Alma, he knew, if he'd really wanted too he could have murdered the woman at various points in this chase, even at the start. His entire body as a weapon, and all the woman had was a knife, and her gibbering little monsters, which had freaked him out, but had they ever actually hurt him? But coated in weapons, and driven by instincts, Sylar the boy still didn't have it in him to cross the line, Alma's gambit had worked. Her resolve, body language, and spirit had scared off Sylar's animal side. Animals were all daunted by human resolve, even that animal was part man itself.

His voice remained soft, having lost the roughness it had when they'd spoken above ground and earlier, now it was just the sound of a boy. "I can trust you?" He questioned her, Sylar didn't trust anyone, not anymore, but at this point all he could do was trust Alma. He watched her retrieve the knife, and yet he felt no fear in letting her pick it up. At the moment, he just felt tired, exhausted from this little standoff. Sylar turned, looking back the way they came. The reservoir wasn't a place he liked to be, workmen sometimes showed up around here. He wanted to get back to the abandoned tunnels quickly, but he realized as she spoke, he'd have to escort her out of here, she probably couldn't see anything down here.

He took a breath, settling his nerves, and thinking of where to let the woman out of the sewers. "I'll take you back, to the surface." He'd never had to navigate someone through the tunnels, so he thought for a moment how best to guide her. Then his tail extended, the length beneath the blade gently pressing against Alma's left side. "Grab on, I'll have to take you a few blocks from where I brought you down." He crouched down and began to crawl back along the path towards his junction. "And avoid the big part at the end, I'd rather not slice your hand open." His voice had become stoic again, the shakiness gone, leaving a simple matter of fact tone to him. The tail he offered was covered in plating, with ridges and little spines protruding from it, feeling more like carved bone than any other substance.

Before he started moving though, he listened to her explanation and offer to go with her. He'd been made this same offer before, and questioned it. But it seemed to keep coming back to him, every time he met a new mutant. She was right, most of his break ins were done with just brute force, but now he'd clawed his way through metal, something which was obviously mutant done. "You mean that Mansion for Mutants?" He asked, unaware Alma was from an entirely different mutant home. "A mutant girl mentioned it to me about a week ago, a school for mutants or something. A family of mutants, the offer keeps coming back to me." He began to move forward, walking down the path towards his lair, his tail giving a tug as he crept along. "Maybe I do need a pack, I just didn't think normal looking mutants like you or her would want something as dark as me." His voice grew a tad lonely, and he found himself suddenly missing Serena, the kind who had only offered him gentle words and friendship. And that longing made him feel slightly more interested in Alma's words as well.

Alma was shivering now, slowly wiping the grime off of her arms and flicking it to the ground. She didn’t need to cloak her scent now. He wasn’t snarling at her, now, for which the young woman was grateful. The young woman still shivered, coming down from frayed nerves and adrenaline, her throat stopped up with anxiety.

>> "I can trust you?"

Honesty was probably the best policy with the kid, considering that he was her only way out of the tunnels. Besides which, he wasn’t a danger, now.

“On this topic of keeping you a secret…” Alma added as a stipulation, “Yes. It is a mutual respect that I pay to other mutants.”

Alma felt something touch her side and, not expecting it, she jerked away slightly. When she realized that it was Sylar’s tail, she lightly grasped on to it, trying not to tug on it.

“Can we go by… the, uh, place I woke up first?” Alma inquired, “I ditched my boots… and my shirt… I’d like them back. I should probably return the food and shirt I stole from you, too…”

She wasn’t exactly making a good case for the whole “trust” argument, but at least she was being honest, now. Alma meandered behind him, her eyes probing the darkness as they walked. She still couldn’t see, and her footsteps plodding clumsily over the uneven floor. Occasionally, the young woman stumbled, but she always managed to regain her footing.

“Ooo, no, not the Mansion,” Alma said warmly. She paused her response as he described the place, the encounter that he’d had with a mutant girl. Alma chuckled, smiling. Mutants were so readily willing to lend a helping hand to their genetic cohorts. He spoke kindly of it, and Alma listened.

“I come from a different place,” Alma informed the boy, “It masquerades as a homeless shelter for mutants. In actuality, it houses some pretty shady, dangerous sorts. But because of that, the police tend to leave us alone.” Alma sighed contently. Her relationship with the place varied upon what sort of trouble she got herself into. “I mean, it’s not dangerous for mutants, like us. Just mind your own business, and you can stay there scot-free. They’ll keep you safe. Free food, free bed… it doesn’t get better.” Alma cleared her throat. “The Mansion is different. It is more like a school for mutant kids, and more friendly with the public. They even have a superhero team, I here.”

Alma meandered behind him pensively, his last statement lingering in Gina’s mind.

“And I don’t know what you mean by ‘wouldn’t want’,” Alma retorted, sounding indignant, “A kid like you is just my sort, boy. Meanin’ no offense by this, but if you run with the intimidating sorts… even if they’re young intimidating sorts… no one messes with you. I like having that kind of power.”

A warmth tinged the corner of Alma’s tone.

“And if it’s the human-looking flesh-bags you’re worried about, there’s plenty of real mutants too… a bunch of big red guys. A lizard-looking guy, too, ‘cept I haven’t seen him in a while. Think he migrated elsewhere.” She cleared her throat again. “But I digress. It isn’t just people like me. It’s people like you, people more mutated than you, and a spectrum in-between.”

Once she'd taken ahold of his tail, Sylar continued on through the tunnels. Though he wasn't looking at her now, he'd already noticed how much softer her thermals had become since the chase had started. So long as she would keep him secret, he didn't care what she did, the everyday happenstance from above ground wasn't his business anyway. He stopped briefly, so she'd ditched her stuff in his lair before running, he was impressed by her clever ploy. "I don't care, it was pretty smart to ditch stuff there, your scent was broken up pretty well." As a hunter, being outsmarted kind of bothered him, but it also meant this girl was intelligent and tougher than appearances suggested.

"And I don't really care, everything in there is stolen anyways. I"m something of a serial bugler." He mentioned as they turned through some tunnels and came back out in the junction. Sylar didn't have one set home, but this junction was one he often used, it was large, spacious, and best of all entirely ignored by the workers who came down into the sewers sometimes. "Your body heat has gone down pretty bad, you might want to keep the extra shirt till you get back top side." His voice was stoic, no hint of concern in it. Sylar was just stating simple facts.

She wasn't from the mansion? How many mutant homes were they're up there? Sylar was so used to hiding he never expected to just learn of multiple shelters for muties that were public knowledge. Sylar himself was mildly weak to other mutants, in that his curiosity subsided his instincts for preservation briefly. However, after the novelty of meeting mutants wore off, who knew how the boy's attitude would change.

After she'd gathered up her things, and anything else she might feel like nabbing from the Predator's den, Sylar continued on, heading back towards the first intersection where their chase had begun. He'd take her to a manhole a few blocks from where he kidnapped her, that should be enough distance to keep him safe, as well as not disorient her too much. "I'm going to take you up a few blocks from where I brought you down." He told her, as he thought on her explanation of her home. "So it's a safe house for criminals or something?" Sylar didn't really care if it was, after all, he was quite the thief himself, though he'd only ever stolen food and clothes. A sewer dweller didn't really have need for money, or violent crime if it could be avoided. "The police aren't very fond of me either." He mumbled, his mind caught on her talk of free food. A normal person might feel bad, but Sylar realized he'd kind of come upon two opportunities for free meals, both the Mansion and this Shelter, even if he didn't move to one of them.

Sylar felt slightly pleased by her statement, no matter how animal like he became, hearing anybody state they wanted him, or at least wanted to talk to him kind of tugged at him. He was still a lonely kid underneath the grime and weaponry. "It's easy to intimidate when you're a living weapon. I started changing three years ago, and I look like this. I'll be all monster eventually." Sylar never imagined viewing his mutation as having power, for him it just meant having to live underground, and stealing food to get by. "I never thought of myself as being powerful." He thought, in reality Sylar was tremendously deadly, he'd just never had the will, or the guidance to make use of it.

After some time through the tunnels, he came underneath one of the man holes. He jumped from his crawling position onto the ladder. "We're here." He said as he thrust his hand forward, and popped the manhole up into the air like it were made of plastic. He peaked his head above ground, no real activity to worry about, an empty street. Looked like a probable residential area, everybody asleep at this time of night. "Come on." He said as he climbed upward and waited above ground.

Sylar paused as Alma mentioned the discarded garb, and the young woman gave a faint, humored "hm". When she was a small child, one of the things that her uncle had taught her was how to hide. There were some mutants, he explained, that could percieve things well beyond a human range. One had to be smart in evading them. Alma wouldn't brag to him, though-- he'd be disappointed that she'd panicked in her evasion. Panicking was the first, most fatal mistake that a person could make. Sylar commented on her body temperature, and Alma tried to surpress the chill that ran down her spine.

"I soaked the shirt with goop," Alma murmured back matter-of-factly, "It's damp, it won't do any good for maintaining body heat."

Keeping one hand curled around his tail, Alma used her other arm to start lifting the shirt over her head as she wriggled out of it. It was better to get out of damp clothes before one caught hypothermia. Alma paused as they rounded the corner into the larger room, which she could tell they were in by the echoes around her. She allowed herself to be guided to the nest, depositing the soiled shirt at the edge, and emptying the extra twice-stolen contents of her purse. She replaced her shirt, and stuck her coat in her bag, along with her boots. She did not want to get filth in those. She then took hold of his tail once again.

"Okay," she acknowledged, as Sylar announced where the exit would be. And in response to his inquiry, "Technically, no. Technically, it's a mutant-only homeless shelter. They call it the Sanctuary. There's just some criminals hiding-out there, too. The place just has enough of a reputation to keep the cops out."

Alma sighed as the kid spoke of being a weapon and a monster. It was a sentiment that she could understand, even if she didn't have the looks of a monstrous individual. And yet, he didn't consider himself powerful.

"You are raw power, kid," Alma assured him, "It's just a matter of how you use it."

A quiet settled before Alma murmured, "I know what it is like, to be feared. Being followed around by spirits and all... even if I can hide my gifts, that does not change the fact that I have them... and the spirits always get me into trouble..."

They slipped into silence once again, and Alma let herself be absorbed by the darkness, occasionally glancing back to make sure that her familiars were still following. The lights of their eyes bobbed like stars on a string behind her. Sounds were growing more prevalent now, but they were still muffled by layers of street that rested above them. Sylar leapt upward suddenly, and Alma released his tail in surprise, coming to a halt.

"What's going on?" the woman inquired, looking upward blindly. The creature responded that they had arrived, the low thunk of a punch opening-up a circular-shaped hole in the cieling. Alma squinted at the pale light that filtered in past the boy, breathing a sigh of relief.

Outside. Alma followed up the ladder once the monster had cleared the path and exited, carefully ascending into the pale light of the night. She slid out of the manhole, but didn't rise, uncertain of how steady her legs were.

"No offense..." Alma breathed, "But I am glad to be out of there. I don't know how you live down there..."

Now capable of seeing, she wiped off her feet and slid her boots back on before unfolding herself, rising to her full height to survey the boy in the half-light of the evening. Sure, he was scary to behold, but he had the face of a kid.

"Thank you for not killing me, Sylar," Alma said with a nod, "Do you want me to show you where the place is? In case you decide to ditch the underground?"

In other words, did he want to accompany her? Alma walked slowly towards the mouth of the alley, peering onto the avenue for a better idea of where she was. She lingered there, at the threshold, looking back towards the child that hid in the shadows.

Part of her was also unnerved by the whole experience of being hunted, and she was now on-edge, the shadows of the alleys all bearing unfriendly and hidden eyes that bore into her back. She was paranoid, and was not looking-forward to the long, lonely walk back to the Sanctuary.

So that was why she was so cold, soaking in sewer gunk couldn't be very comfortable, but it certainly made her blend in better down here. Again Sylar was impressed with her clever tricks. "Sanctuary huh, an inviting word for mutants I'd think." He mumbled in response to her as she fixed her clothing. Some might think a woman changing her shirt would be an exciting moment for a teenage boy, but Sylar was blind, physical beauty or even lack of clothing meant nothing to him really. "If it keeps the cops away, I'd call it a sanctuary."

Sylar knew people were afraid of him, and that he could hurt someone if he wanted to, Sylar was fairly certain he was entirely deadly. But he'd never felt powerful because he was always afraid of normal people killing him for what he was. Though it might be obvious to other mutants, realizing it was a double edged sword was a new thought for the boy. "I have power." He mumbled softly to himself as he lead Alma to their exit to the surface. His entire experience with her was entirely different than his night with Serena or Kiva. So many new thoughts to process on top of his already excited past week.

Sylar himself was very bothered by Alma's spirits, her power was entirely invisible to him, and that scared him to death. He spent most of his life not being able to see, but only being able to hear and feel her spirits made it very very hard to fight them. And not being able to fight was the worst fear for somebody who was a predator at heart. He hadn't thought about warning her he was going to jump, or force a man hole open. It was just how Sylar lived down here. Sylar didn't smile at her statement, but he saw the humor in it none the less. "I don't live down there cause I want to. It's just...I feel safe down there." He didn't ever want to live down in the sewers. And the story as to why he spent 3 years living down there was complex, but after so long, it had become a home to him. Down there he was top of the food chain, nobody could best him in his home. That confidence was the only thing that allowed him to keep going on with this life style of fear and thievery, the only way he could sleep was knowing the dark was that much scarier than he or anybody up here was.

"After three years, I've just gotten used to it." He finished, staying near the manhole as Alma caught her bearings and finally made her way towards the edge of the alley. "Oh, uh yeah, I don't really wanna kill anybody." He affirmed to her. He wasn't sure how to feel about following Alma to her home after their encounter in his. After all, she'd threatened she had friends who would defend or avenge her. But after learning about the mansion, only to learn now that there was another home for mutants as well. He should at least learn where it was, in case he needed to avoid it. He had no idea the girl might be uncomfortable after her experience, or of the various reasons she might have for the offer.

"I uh...I guess I should at least know where it is." He crept forward towards the mouth of the alley, surveying left and right to see if anybody was around. He spoke his next words bluntly and without reserve. "You aren't just gonna have me killed if I go with you are you?" Sylar and Alma weren't friends, and he remembered how the entire night had gone. He might trust her not to run to the police on him, but Sylar wasn't an idiot either.

Alma sighed as the familiar fabric rubbed against her cool skin, comforting her. The young woman rubbed her arm, trying to rub heat back into it, her arms quivering with the chill that still clung to her. Sylar was quietly explaining that he lived underground because it was safe, not because he wanted to. He’d been down there for three years, now… three years of darkness and moonlight? Sounded sad.

“No safer place than a place where the police dare not go,” Alma murmured, lightly stepping out of the alleyway and into the pale light of a street lamp, eyes swiveling around the street to orient herself. Yeah… she knew this place. She knew this place very well… she’d be back at the Sanctuary in no time at all, “I know I feel safest when I’m surrounded by the biggest and baddest. Nobody crosses them.”

Her footsteps were slow and careful, and she’d glance back occasionally to make sure that Sylar was following her. The boy frankly demanded what Alma’s intent was, certain that the woman meant to kill him.

“I promise, I will not do you harm,” Alma swore, tracing a small “x” over her heart with her fingertip, “And no one at the Sanctuary will hurt you, either, unless you give them a reason to. So just… don’t give them a reason to kill you.”

Alma smiled faintly. Don’t do like she did, is what she meant.

Sylar's eyes could see the chill in Alma's body, her extremities had lost most of their color in the sewers, and even now didn't have the orange and red colors they should, but she seemed to be recovering. Sylar could also see the logic in her words, he'd spent a lot of effort convincing anybody who ran into him, or saw him to be terrified of him, and that had carried on to most of the local cops, who were quite wary of a direct confrontation with the Predator in the dark. However, he'd always been "barking" and not "biting", Sylar was still just a boy, timid by nature and unaware of his potential for cruelty and mayhem that laid with his weaponized form.

"I spent a lot of time spooking people, scaring them at night, especially anyone who got curious. There hasn't been a worker to that part of the sewer in over a year because of me. I at least look pretty scary to most people." Sylar didn't think he was weak, or unable to fight, he just preferred not having too. A natural method for most predators in the world, better to be feared over respected. At first he crept behind Alma, sticking to the sides of the street, kind of easing into any shadowy spot he could. But slowly he had to walk like a normal person, his tail easing down to the ground and trailing behind him, his claws hidden in his jacket's pocket. He disliked being out in the open, but crawling would draw attention from a distance.

Sylar's response was fairly curt considering he didn't actually trust Alma's words, though he wanted to. "That question was pretty dumb, considering you're the only person I've given reason to fear me in awhile. But I'll try and behave." He didn't sneer, or speak with a disrespectful tone, but he clearly sounded cautious of the entire situation. He wondered what this place was like. He'd seen a school for mutants, and met mutants who were so kind and friendly it was almost uncomfortable, so a place for mutant criminals had to be an entirely different environment than what he'd been experiencing lately.

A small smile curled at the corners of Almas’ lips while Sylar spoke. He spoke of spooking those who got too close… using his appearance to keep people at a distance.

“Trust me… most people catch a glance of my spirits and run in the opposite direction,” Alma said softly, lest someone be listening to their hushed conversation, “Nothing like a disembodied shadowy figure to make grown men whimper like little girls.”

Sylar walked bipedally now, a certain, human ease in his gait. His response to Alma’s caution was met with a reply that was nothing short of a teenager’s peevish quip. A laugh escaped Alma, one that seemed too loud, for the situation. Alma quickly squelched any further chuckles by covering her mouth, and shook her head.

“The dangerous ones won’t be afraid of you,” Alma murmured, “I can assure you of that. I'm more concerned with you pissing them off... or letting your curiosity get you into trouble.”

Alma tapped her nose with her index finger. She was, of course, speaking from personal experience. The dark-haired woman came to a halt, facing the street. Their walk had transpired quickly, since the two have them had each other’s company to occupy a time that Alma had previously spent wandering solo. The bodachs gathered behind her, murmuring as she halted. Alma was facing a cathedral, or so it outwardly seemed, her hands upon her hips. It was a tall, dark gash in the cool light of the weaning hours of the night.

“There she is,” Alma murmured, “Across the street is the Sanctuary.”

She paused, looking up and down the street to check for traffic. Seeing that there wasn’t any, she looked towards her cohort, who was beside her.

“…would you like to go in?” Alma inquired, “Sometimes it helps to have a current resident accompany you.”

Whether she had said that she’d just show him where it is, or not, it was worth making the offer. He’d followed her so far, anyways.

Sylar wondered what her little spirits looked like, his only idea of them being horrid little invisible assailants. He responded to her statement with a hallow voice. "Yeah well keep the little ghosts away from me. I had my fill of them." Sylar would probably be permanently spooked by Alma's power, much the way the world was afraid of what crept in the darkness, Sylar was bothered by creatures he could barely perceive. As they neared their destination, Sylar's form continued to bunch up, revealing he was a tad nervous. He moved his hands to his hood, drawing it taught across his face.

"Trust me, I can pretty much be invisible if I want to. I'll keep to myself." Sylar had a knack for concealing himself, a natural inclination towards spots and movements that made him hard to notice. Years of not wanting to be noticed gave you a talent for it. He might meet mutants he'd need to fear, but so long as he kept his instincts under control there shouldn't be trouble. As Alma stopped, Sylar did as well, his tail swaying a bit with anticipation and anxiety. Sylar looked forward, unable to see the Cathedral, his eyes instead saw the large patch of grayed out tone, it's form created by fighting against the ambient temperature around it.

"It's big." Was Sylar's response to her statement. He'd see the Mansion, another home for mutants, which was quite large itself, though it was also the land around it that lent help to it's awe. Sylar wasn't sure he should follow the woman in. Too many risks, not enough facts for him to properly gauge how dangerous it was. But if he was ever to join the mutant community, he'd have to know what his options were. Who knew when some major event might shake up the world he'd grown accustomed to.

He turned, his face hidden beneath the safety of his hood's darkness, his attention focused on the woman he'd nearly let himself murder. "I'll take a peek. But I'll keep my guard up." He bluntly stated, his mind focusing in on his more important senses, his hearing and his nose ready for any signals should he need to bolt from this place. But with that, he followed Alma into her home, his mind curious as to what the Sanctuary was, and who called it home.

Alma smiled and chuckled at Sylar’s sentiment, and shook her head imperceptibly.

“They were only reacting in my defense,” Alma assured him, glancing over at the sprites that meandered around her and him unperceived. One of the smaller ones was even clumsily attempting (and failing) to clamber onto Sy’s foot while he walked, though his arms kept ghosting through the perpetually-moving appendage, “Unless you’ve got sugary food… then they’re just nuisances…”

The boy drew his hood, remarking on how he could go around unseen if need be. The two stopped in front of the Sanctuary, and only offered the observation that it was big.

“That it is,” Alma agreed. She exchanged glances with the other mutant, lightly patting his shoulder. It was out of reflex, her inclination to reassure him.

“You will be fine,” Alma assured him, “Particularly with me accompanying you.”

Alma was only telling a half-truth, but betrayed none of this either physically or verbally—Alma had landed herself in a fair spot of trouble with the denizens of the Sanctuary. Her presence may or may not have been beneficial to the young monster’s cause. But she didn’t want to put him any more on-edge informing him of that.

“Well, let’s go, then,” Alma said, glancing both ways before striding across the street. She jogged up the stairs, and pushed open the front door, holding it open for Sylar. Lisa peered at her from the front desk, her lips forming a curious, though hardly-approving, line.

“Good morning, Alma,” she greeted, “You look like you had a… hm, wild party.”

“Had a spot of fun in the sewers,” Alma murmured, “This here is my newfound friend, Sylar. He may be interested in residing here, but he wanted to check the place out. I'm going to give him a grand tour after I change.”

“Don’t get any of that filth on the carpet,” Lisa sighed, returning to a puzzle book that was splayed open on the counter. Alma nodded and gestured to Sylar, leading him towards the residential hall. As she meandered in that direction, one of the Abyssi came sauntering down the hall, clad only in athletic shorts. On his chest, the mark of ♀. He was head-and-shoulders above the young woman, and though she was caked with gunk, Venus cast her a smile.

Alma nodded to the red behemoth and continued into the hall, making sure that Sylar was still with her.

“This is the residence hall… everyone lives here, has their own room and bathroom,” Alma explained, “I’m stopping here so that I change clothes and wipe down really fast, but I should be finished in a few minutes. Then, we can continue.”

Alma pulled out a key as she stopped in front of her door, unlatching it and stepping inside.

“Welcome, to my humbled abode,” Alma said with a smile, “Sit wherever, I’ll be done in a heartbeat.”

Slender fingers retrieved a t-shirt and shorts, and fresh undergarments for each respective half. Alma deposited the fresh clothes inside on the bathroom counter. Alma slid off her boots, and as she closed the door, assured the young boy, “No more than five minutes.”

With that, the door clicked shut. Leaving the sewer monster, and the bodachs, free to roam in the room.

A large portion of Sylar's diet currently consisted of sugary foods. "So they're always nuisances then." He retorted, following the woman as she lead the way into the building. Sylar tensed up as she touched him, an instinctive urge to pull back rising up within him, but ignored as he couldn't run from this place, yet. "So you're some kind of bigshot here?" He asked her, though he assumed she must be if she could just bring somebody in, or threaten others with vengeance like she had him.

Sylar walked at a brisk pace, slowing only as he entered the building. His senses quickly began processing all the information they could. He listened intently, looking for anything threatening admist Alma's home. He could smell various things, but nothing too out of the ordinary so far. His tail stuck out behind him, somewhat low to the ground. And though his mutant features were obvious to anyone at this point, his face was well hidden beneath his hood, hiding his facial expressions as best he could. He remained deathly silent as Alma greeted what must be some kind of secretary. Sylar continued to follow Alma, letting himself feel like her shadow until he needed to act differently.

He felt his jaw gape a bit as they passed a large creature of a man. Sylar said nothing, but felt himself staring a bit before Alma moved on. The residence hall was mostly a blur to Sylar's vision, a hall of grey which apparently housed all the mutants who lived here. "How do a bunch of muties fund that much living space." He wondered aloud. Was this some type of commune where everybody pitched in? Or maybe those with shady backgrounds living here had reason to invest. Either way, it was impressive to think about each mutant have such comfortable living quarters.

Alma invited him into her room, another surprising moment for Sylar. He was still a stranger to her, and a dangerous individual, even if this was her home, her individual room was a confined space to be sharing with someone you barely knew. Sylar began to wonder if maybe he was just the paranoid one, then let the thoughts slip as he entered her room. She vanished into her bathroom to change, leaving him alone for the moment. He didn't sit, but immediately crouched down, low to the floor and comfortable for him. He sniffed the air, picking up the scent of Alma heavily, which was understandable here. He crept around her room a bit, sorting through the various stimuli as he waited for her to change clothes.

“More or less,” Alma admonished, smiling drolly at Sylar’s first supposition. The dry-humored expression remained fixed upon her features as she simply dismissed the second supposition with a frank, “Not quite… I’m just a familiar face. People won’t give you as much trouble if you’ve got a chauffeur of sorts.”

Even if that chauffeur wasn’t exactly “popular” with their cohorts. Alma heard the rhetorical inquiry, but didn’t see fit to answer it. She had her theories, and for the time being, she was trying to keep her head low.

Once within the confines of the restroom, the woman allowed herself to relax. What a hectic night. Tired hazel eyes flicked towards her reflection, catching the eye of what seemed to be a mud-monster in the woman’s stead. Alma huffed and peeled the dirty clothes off of her, tossing the rancid things into the tub. Once free of her clothes, Alma toweled-down with a washcloth, relieved as she scraped off the grime. She’d clean more thoroughly later. For now, this was sufficient. The washcloth was tossed into the bathtub as well and, wrapping a towel around her, Alma began to rinse her hair out.

Finally rinsed free of the gunk, the woman changed her clothes, relaxing at the touch of dry, clean-scented clothes. Once changed, Alma sauntered back out into her bedroom

She wasn’t certain of what she’d expected Sylar to do—definitely not sit still. He had sunken low to the floor, following his nose as it led him around the small room. Was he… smelling her things?

“Find anything interesting?” Alma said lightly, using the towel to squeeze the moisture out of her hair. She patted the damp black tendrils a few times before tossing the towel onto the floor, beside her wardrobe, bare feet padding quietly against the familiar carpet.

“I haven’t done tours before so I’m not entirely sure where we should go,” Alma confessed, “Kitchen and dining…? Rec room? Library?”

She was just tossing out random proposals, seeing if any might catch the boy’s interest.

To be honest, Alma really just wanted to sleep. The night had sucked the energy out of her. And, of all things, she had now offered to show the very creature that had tried to kill her around her abode.

Sylar wondered just exactly how the hierarchy of the Sanctuary played out, considering he'd only met Alma, and she was a bit hard to read sometimes. "I see, not quite as buddy buddy as the Mansion then I suppose." Sylar had no qualms or interest in the ideas of relationships close enough to be considered family, or even pseudo-family, so a place like this might better suit his current personality, though people changed depending on who they met and spent time with.

Sylar crept around the room, sniffing a few different objects, giving him a general idea of where he was, and what was in the room. Clothing, belongings, a bed. Nothing too out of the ordinary, or at least what he assumed was still ordinary. He wasn't exactly sure what else he should expect to find though, before being caught in the act so to speak as Alma returned from the restroom, smelling much nicer and more natural than earlier.

Sylar rose up to standing level, and responded with no embarrassment or guilt. "Just getting a feel for the room. While you're very easy to see, I'm otherwise blind. Easier to smell my way around, than to navigate by colorless blobs." Sylar's vision was a bit more natural and primitive than modern technology made thermal vision out to be. He could see, but anything not warm or heated kind of just melted into the background, creating a sea of gray to blueish shapes. "You'd be surprised just how much I can tell with my nose compared to your eyes." He wouldn't go into details, but Sylar's sense of smell was pretty strong, he could probably even identity which outfits she'd worn recently.

"You don't really have to show me around, I'm not exactly the type who spends alot of time indoors. Food though...would be nice." Sylar sometimes regretted encountering other mutants, it always seemed to involve food, and he was starting to feel like he could be coerced or bribed by a simple sandwich at this point. His tail was flat behind him, the tip curling and uncurling, kind of a flicking motion on the floor.

"Besides, I don't want to poke my nose around a place I barely know, the last thing I need is to stir something up in someone else's home." He had felt the same way about the Mansion, this was home to who knew how many other mutants, and they had little to no reason to be "kind" to him, so he wasn't about to abuse what welcome he was given. For now, he simply wanted to get a feel for this place, to know where other mutants spent their time. And maybe get a free meal, that never hurt.