Clyde nodded; “mutie” made some people particularly upset. Being a person who neither looked abnormal nor used his powers publicly, Clyde never heard the word directed at him. However, there were people with a hatred for that term hundreds of times stronger than his, so it was generally a good idea not to use it to refer to others.

With some effort, he pulled the front door open. “The person behind the desk asked me about my mutation when I checked in. They probably keep track of everyone's so they know what they should do if theah's some sort of crisis. A precaution, basically,” Clyde responded with a shrug. He disagreed with the “new species” remark, though. It seemed too many normal people didn't want to consider mutant humans, and too many mutants were eager to separate themselves from humanity. “We're all still humans,” he stated. That summarized Clyde's point of view on the subject.

As for this other place Sylar mentioned, Clyde didn't know much about it. “Sanctuary? Don't think I've heard much about it. It's not impossible that this place has affiliates, though.” Even if it wasn't the same owner, the places were likely united in their cause.

Sylar followed Clyde through the front door, though the closer they got to the mansion the odder Sylar's posture got. It was like watching someone go from confident to cowardly in fast forward. On the outside he was safe, able to flee into the open at anytime. But inside was like being in a cage to Sylar sometimes. He pulled his hood tightly as he passed through the door, his speed slowing down as he followed Clyde into the Mansion. "As much as I break onto the grounds, I wonder if I should be on that registry." He thought aloud, revealing that this wasn't his first time sneaking onto the Mansion's grounds.

A precaution he said, which was fair. Mutants were all like walking time bombs, with various insane powers that could level buildings or just destroy other people. Sylar alone could knock down walls, flip over cars, and tear people in half. Nobody should have this kind of power naturally, able to be misused at the slightest loss of control. Clyde claimed they were all still human, but Sylar knew better. He was half a human at best...the rest was a living weapon. "Most of us are, I started all human too you know. But now i'm probably just half a human, eventually I'll just be it." He said, giving away some of his inner thoughts as they crossed through the foyer of the mansion and into the main house of various mutants whom Sylar was acquainted with.

So Clyde didn't know about Sanctuary, made sense, Clyde seemed normal enough, still plenty human. He didn't need to do the things mutants like Sylar or other Sanctuary inhabitants did to get by. "It's another big home for mutants here in New York. Not as...homey as this big Mansion feels, but still a safe place for out kind. I figured the two might be working together in some way." He continued to think aloud, though his body language seemed anxious. Sylar was suddenly looking around, as if checking for something that would come out and bite him. Mostly it was just that nagging feeling he got when he was inside, like he didn't belong in a place like this, in a place so normal.

“They might like to know about you, yeah, just so they know that the person who's been coming onto the grounds at odd hours is just visiting friends,” Clyde responded. To be polite, he purposely refrained from bringing up the obvious monsteresque appearance Sylar had that could add quite a bit to the scare factor. There was no need to point out the obvious.

As they were walking around inside, Clyde couldn't help but hear Sylar dehumanizing himself because of his appearance. He kept expressing that he wasn't completely human, and honestly, it was sad to listen to. “Tell me, do you think I'm seven yeahs old just because I look it? You don't have to be what you look like,” he stated. Successful or not, Clyde's attempts to be perceived as a teen at least showed he hadn't given up. He didn't know what Sylar was thinking, but it sounded like he had.

“So that's what the Sanctuary is...” Clyde mused. Sounds like another Mansion. Sylar's body language was hard for him to read, but the nervous glances were unmistakable. “You fine with heading to the kitchen?” Clyde asked. “I'm guessing it's been a while since you've had a meal out of one.”

Sylar didn't know if the Mansion had records on him or not, though he did know a few people here. Serena and Evelyn were both friends, and he'd met a woman named Kealey awhile back. He didn't really know any of the other employees though. "I've never told anybody about myself, besides the people I know here. Just a few friends, that's all." He wasn't really uncomfortable if they had a record on him, after all the people here were nice enough to feed him, so he didn't mind if they needed something as small as a record about him in exchange.

Clyde seemed bothered by Sylar's view of him self, or at least bothered that he judged based upon appearance. That was misunderstanding though, it wasn't his appearance that made him feel inhuman, it was his mind. "I would assume it from your stature, but not your personality. I know it's the inside that matters, and my insides are darker than what I look like." Sylar said ominously, though he was always trying to hold it in, the inner monster got out sometimes, and it was never pretty. Nothing like almost eating your new friend one night, or killing and eating a deer because you were hungry.

"It's a big place too, but a whole bunch of people all living there, dunno how you can stand it. Crowds...make me nervous." Sylar spoke as they made their way towards the kitchen, a room he'd been too a few times. "I've come here a few times for food, but it's the only kitchen I know." He responded, not telling that his general food run consisted of raiding a store and wrecking the place as he took whatever he want. "So do you eat much? You know, being that small?" Sylar was kind of curious, Clyde's mutation kind of interested him

Clyde furrowed his brow at something Sylar said. His mind was darker than his appearance? Okay... On one hand, what Sylar said was just a dark emo thought brought on by a history of parental and societal rejection. But the tone Sylar said it in sounded creepily serious. Perhaps there really was something eerie, possibly mutation related, in Sylar's mentality, something Clyde should be wary of. Geez, maybe he didn't want to know his mental workings. Clyde made a mental note to be careful around him.

With that in mind, Clyde continued to listen to him, leading him towards the kitchen in the meantime. “I don't like crowds all that much, eithah. I just put up with them.” A fair amount of the people Clyde met weren't all that nice to him, so he avoided large groups of them when he could. “I don't know much about cooking, but theah's always lots of food up fo grabs.” All kinds of it too, as there were residents with high caloric intakes and special dietary needs.

Though there were people who asked him questions about the whole “kid's body” deal, the one Sylar asked was actually one he didn't recall hearing. “Yeah, I don't eat as much as othah teens. I guess I feel hungrier when I'm in an oldah form, though.”

Sylar's dark side wasn't just some metaphor for his repressed anger, or need for acceptance. It was more a primal hunger that drove the boy to near fits of insanity only to be sated by violence or the taste of blood. Good thing he wasn't hungry or angry, but pretty stable today. Sylar disliked crowds because it was harder to move, a constricting feeling, made him nervous. Nice to know he wasn't the only person who found them not enjoyable. As Sylar spent plenty of time observing the normal people up here, he couldn't understand how they dealt with constantly being a drop in the ocean of other people up here.

"No crowds to put up with where I live, I made sure of it." Sylar lived in the sewers, but it wasn't like he was the only one who ever went down there. He'd spent a good amount of time routing out the resident homeless in his territory, as well as scaring the city workers to the point that maintenance in his territory was pretty bad. The city would probably eventually have to deal with that issue too, and the angry sewer creature sitting atop their machinery. "I can't cook either, but I'll eat just about anything. Got an iron stomach to match my appearance." Maybe carapace laden would be a more proper term, but Sylar really could eat just about anything and not get sick anymore. One of the perks of being a monster it seemed.

So he did eat less or more depending on his size, kind of interesting. Sylar did like biology when he'd had the chance to read about it back in school. "Interesting, when you change age it must change a lot about your body. My mutation...just makes me constantly hungry." Sylar's mutation had increased his metabolism to match his impressive natural abilities, though he didn't know or understand to what level. It was however, something to think about as he met more and more mutants, seeing how vastly different they were to one another. "Speaking of food, I'd actually just settle for a sandwich. Or anything with meat really." He mumbled as they made way to the kitchen.

No crowds where Sylar lived? Oh, it couldn't have been a subway station he was living in. Basement of an abandoned building? The sewers? A cave? The way Sylar worded it, it appeared that he intentionally scared off whoever wandered into his home, wherever it was. It was antisocial but understandable, given the negative attention Sylar's mutation would likely attract. Clyde himself wished there was a way to ward off bullies, but, being less than four feet tall, scaring them was not an option. There were always crowds to deal with, whether he liked it or not.

“Moving into a school setting would be a huge leap fo you,” Clyde commented under his breath. In his experience, classes were the worst; he was always the odd one out when surrounded by teenagers that actually looked their age. People always were told to embrace their differences, but, frankly, being different was hard.

“Anyways, yeah, a lot does change. It hurts when it does, too,” he answered as he entered the kitchen. Height, strength, the way people perceived him... Shifting sometimes allowed him to escape the annoyances that came with his normal form.

Sylar's request for meat wasn't all that surprising. With an appearance like his, “vegetarian” wasn't a word that came to the age shifter's mind. Clyde tugged the refrigerator door open and glanced at the shelves. “Looks like theah's some leftovah pork roast in heah. I think theah's a big industrial-sized box of microwavable patties in the freezah.” Sylar didn't seem the picky type; Clyde was sure there was something in the kitchen for him to eat.

Sylar's ears picked up easily on Clyde's statement, even if he spoke it hushed. "I did school once, ended with me throwing a kid through a wall. Not sure I should try again." Sylar knew he wanted more education, but honestly the risk of losing it around other, weaker people or the fact that new knowledge might just be useless as he devolves further made him weary of trying any kind of school, even at a mutant one. Though part of him knew Clyde might have some understanding of what it is to not fit in, since the boy was older than Sylar but looked far younger. Being different would always be an issue.

Sylar's physiology changed slowly, a growing pandemic that permeated throughout his body more with each passing year. Sometimes it was painful, like when new plates broke the skin, but generally the growing pains were rare. "Sounds unfortunate, my changes are slow, I rarely notice any pain." He responded, sharing some more information about his own mutation in return for Clyde's input.

Finally the kitchen, Sylar stomach was already starting to stir in anticipation. Clyde explained there was some port left over, as well as frozen patties, probably hamburgers he assumed. However Sylar was unable to use a microwave, since it's hard to press buttons with bladed fingers or read them for that matter with blind eyes. "Pork is good, or burgers, anything with meat really. I can't use a microwave though, so if you wouldn't mind could you throw something in for me?" He didn't explain why he couldn't use it, as Sylar often forgot about his blindness, which his thermal sight had fixed long ago, except in scenario's like this. Sure he could see people, could discern the temperature in their bodies, and easily spot them even behind thin walls or doors, but reading? Entirely out of his realm of abilities now.

Sylar leaned back against a counter, his tail laying flat on the floor save for the tip which curled up and back down, like a bored cat. "So what're you gonna eat?" He asked idly.

Sylar's mention of a kid he threw at a wall was yet another thing Clyde found unsettling about him. At least it probably happened a while ago, when Sylar was still with his family. The kid, whoever he was, probably made the mistake of picking on a mutant with dangerous powers. Powers which were apparently getting stronger, according to him.

Clyde looked between the pork roast and the patties. He didn't know how much time to put the pork roast in, so the hamburger patties were probably easier. For a moment, he couldn't believe Sylar's request. “You nevah learned how to use a microwave?” Then his gaze dropped down to his hands. “Oh, the nails.” That would be an issue.

Clyde still wasn't sure how much Sylar wanted to eat. If he were hungry, he could only eat one hamburger, so the average teenager could probably eat two, and Sylar was bound to eat more than the average person – he himself mentioned his mutation made him hungry all the time. So, Clyde placed three hamburger patties on the plate. If Sylar wanted more, he could always throw in another batch. Clyde dragged the stepping stool over, as he was not tall enough to reach the microwave without it. He climb up and placed the plate inside.

Once he'd started the microwave, he walked over to the cabinets. “I'm not too hungry, but I guess I'll go ahead and pull these out.” he said, holding up a large bag of potato chips in one hand and some hamburger buns in the other.

Sylar's physical strength was quite impressive, the muscles beneath his skin were far denser and more supple than that of any normal human. He could wrestle a bear, and win pretty easily with his physical strength. However he rarely used it for anything but digging his claws into the stone beneath him, or murdering a hapless animal when he needed a meal. But the danger was always present, just like a caged lion you never knew when the boy might finally snap and show just how dangerous he was.

It seemed Sylar's usual lack of interaction led to an often mix up when people were dealing with him. Clyde assumed Sylar didn't know how to use a microwave, which he didn't, but not because he'd never encountered one, he just couldn't see the buttons. Or press them with the knives he had instead of fingers. "Er no, I know how it works. But I can't read the buttons, I'm blind. And these..." He was cut off as Clyde realized Sylar's claws also made it hard to interact, considering if he tried to press the buttons he'd probably stab the machine and get a nasty shock.

Clyde put some amount of food on a plate and pressed it into the microwave, which soon lit up like a Christmas tree to Sylar's eyes, aware that the food was being cook via a flash of heat. "Wow...electronics are so odd when I'm up close to them." Normal people just saw all the usual bells and whistles of such a device, but Sylar's eyes could pick up on the electrical currents as they powered up, and the coils within the machine as they pumped out radiation to heat the food within, the mostly opaque blob quickly lighting up like some sort of will o wisp. "You guys must spend a lot on food, with so many of you living here...and me stopping by to bum food." He said, feeling a tad guilty about having someone who appeared a child make food for him, but in reality Clyde was older, so it kind of balanced out?

“Wait. Yo blind?” Clyde asked. That was news to him. “I mean, it's just that you seemed like yo able to see. You noticed me befoh I saw you. You have sharp hearing oh something?” Clyde knew there were mutations that could make up for disabilities. Even some blind non-mutants had heightened senses. Doing his best not to stare, Clyde looked Sylar over. His ears looked pretty normal compared to the rest of him. Though, that wasn't really a good indicator of enhanced hearing.

Sylar's bizarre fascination with the microwave did not go unnoticed. How much contact had Sylar had with the rest of the world? Clyde guessed not all that much. Bluntness, sneaking around in the middle of the night, yeah. Not exactly indication of spectacular social skills.

Clyde shrugged at Sylar's observation. “They probably do. Theah's a bunch of teens heah, and I'm sure some have mutations that make theah metabolism even highah. Though, I think some othah mutants don't need to eat at all, so maybe things cancel out. I don't think you need to feel bad about it” Still, Clyde felt a twinge of guilt himself for living there.