It seems his appearance had a strong effect on the girl. Every part of her body was giving a signal of fear, the flush of her flesh, the sudden tenseness in her posture, the gasp that wouldn't escape her throat, she was terrified of him. And though maybe that hurt him somewhere in side, he'd long since grown numb to that complaint, simply accepting he was horrific. "It's alright to be afraid, I'm a monster. But I promise, I won't hurt you. We're both mutants." His voice was calm, but the tone contained the trace hints of sadness, the melancholy of disappointment.

Slowly she seemed to work through it, gaining some measure of composure again. She was concerned with him, as if she could do something to hurt him. She held up her hand like it was dangerous, a gesture Sylar wasn't used to. "Nah, I'm fine. Should I be worried that your glove tore?" He asked, realizing that tug he'd felt earlier must have been her glove catching one his claw or a piece of his plating. It wasn't out of the ordinary, just putting on clothes Sylar tended to tear them up, his body was clad with razor sharp edges.

He stared a bit at her hand, observing the normal looking shape, and the generic hues that colored a human hand, seeing nothing out of the ordinary like his own. "I think my hands are scarier than yours, what happens if you don't wear the gloves?" He asked in curiosity, unaware that Andrea's touch was just as dangerous, actually even more so than his own.

She shook her head slowly. How were you supposed to tell someone that you weren't afraix of them, but a mental nightmare you had projected on them? How was she supposed fo explain that it wasn't him she feared, but every shadow, creek, and bump in the night? "I am not afraid of you..." She whispered, " There is only one being in this world worthy of being called a monster, and you are not him.... you aren't him." She repeated the words under her breath again, tried to shake the memories from her head and glanced down at her palm. "... sometimes it is hard not to get lost in memories. I will be fine... and I am sorry for how I have ben acting"

Taking a deep breath, she tried to move along. "If you do not feel any pain, then I must not have touched you. My mutation has rather unpleasant.. uh.. side effects on people."

Andrea seemed truly terrified, the fear grasping her the same way Sylar had seen it grab normal people who crossed him during a hunt. But maybe it was more, generally he scared people with a menacing pose or the hissing noise he could resonate deep in his throat, she seemed to be utterly afraid of just his appearance even when he was acting human. The poor girl must be skittish by nature. She however began to explain that it was something more, perhaps he triggered some deep scar within her.

He spoke softly again, his voice not gentle, but not harsh either, a calm soulless tone, one that was used to being a creature of fear and accepted the response as normal. The voice of someone who couldn't blame her for being afraid, because he was scary by nature. "It's alright, you're not the first or last. Besides, we're all afraid of something." In her case, it was someone else, someone scary enough to sting at her from the recesses of her mind. In Sylar's case, his greastest fear was what lived inside himself, a burden he'd carry with him always.

She moved on, explaining her touch was deadly. Sylar didn't suffer from any sort of effect, but if she claimed it was dangerous, he'd believe her. After all, he was dangerous himself. "You and me both Andrea." He said, looking down at his hand for a moment, an implement clad in feeling-less armor and tipped with edges sharp enough to rend flesh right through to the bone, and further still. He clenched his hand tightly for a moment and then released, looking back at Andrea. "Seems we have something in common huh?" He said jokingly, letting his own dark thoughts dissipate from his mind.

She was pondering taking the bits of broken latex off, but decided against it. Better to have some protection then none at all. Sylar's words drew her further from her thoughts and for the moment and for the moment the issue was forgotten. Her expression softened, guilt welled inside her chest, and she fidgeted on the spot. She couldn't tell from his voice, or his body language if she'd genuinely upset him. Being around Saph so often she'd gotten very used to energetic, easy to read personalities. This one was a stark contrast, and she didn't know how to react accordingly. Still, she approached him all the same, if a little hesitant, and laid her gloved hand on his arm. Telling him she wasn't afraid of him would do no good; she'd proven that a lie, and refused to reiterate it.

"Very much so... probably more than even that." Her eyes fell on the food she had been preparing, which she could now see were littered with lighter grey spots. In her haste to finish and flee back to her room, she'd ruined her late snack.

".... Sylar, I do not suppose you are still hungry?"

Sylar was genuinely difficult to read, a byproduct of spending a lifetime being abused or ignored, and then a few years totally isolated. However he'd become totally used to what he was and the effect it caused, so for now Andrea's reaction was simply accepted. She'd probably never know how he really felt about it through the armor he kept up. Her other arm reached out for him, and for a moment he tensed up, as if afraid of her touch. Not because of whatever power she had, but simply because he was afraid of interaction.

She asked if he was still hungry, a statement that nearly made the boy chuckle. "As the few people who know me could tell you Andrea. I'm always hungry." And to confirm his little statement, one last gurgle escaped from his stomach, as if his bottomless hole of a gut was happy to hear more food was coming it's way.

A genuine, if strained smile touched her lips and she left his side for the fridge. "Good! Since I have ruined my own food, I shall have to make more. I would feel very silly making a big meal all for myself if I were the only one here to enjoy it."

Drawing up the thick mental cook book she had stashed away in her memory, she pondered what to make. Sylar had mentioned he liked meats, so she at least had a leg to stand on. First things first, though... remembering her torn glove, the Greek turned from the fridge toward the sink cupboards and fished out one of the gloves used for washing dishes. Slipping it on after peeling the rest of the other glove off, she tested how it felt. It was snug enough, if hideous to look at. It also didn't appear to be having a reaction to her venom. Very good! "How does beef and potatoes sound?" She questioned, already busying herself with digging the ingredients she would need from the fridge.

Though her nerves hadn't fully rested yet, having something else to put her thoughts on helped greatly. She could get lost in the methods of her mothers cooking as the many steps it took to make sure everything turned out just right left little room for anything else.

The girl fumbled about looking for something, ah a new glove it seemed. Her hands must indeed be dangerous if she always wore gloves. Sylar didn't have that privilege himself, his clawed fingers tore though anything he tried to wrap them in. Instead he was simply stuck with hands that were always dangerous, a reason to always hold back and stay away from others. Odd to find someone who knew that feeling so randomly here at the Mansion. The mutant community truly was more interconnected than normal people were it seemed.

She seemed pretty excited he was still hungry, striking Sylar as a bit odd. First she's scared of him, then scared of something else, and now she wanted to provide him more food. He needed to sneak into the Mansion more often he figured. "Sound's fine, kind of a guy's meal though." Girls usually ate lighter than men, Sylar knew this because he'd mugged plenty for food. So beef and potatoes struck him as perfect, but he was surprised it was the first dish offered.

Why she began the preparations to prepare the food and dishes she needed, Sylar took a moment to sit on his heals, a sign he was relaxed, his tail curling up on the floor beside him, it's tip curling up and down like a relaxing cat. "You recovered quickly." He said softly, curious as to what kind of person this snake haired girl was while he waited on her to feed him.

Chuckling as she dragged a medium sized raw beef roast rrom the fridge, the Greek cast a sheepish look her shoulder at him. "You are a guy, are you not? " setting the meat down on the counter, Andrea left it to find the potatoes next. "Where I am from meat is almost always the main ingredient. Meat and potatoes, meat and vegetables, meat and more meat."

She thought back to dinnere at home, the smell of fresh spices and boiling juices. The taste of home cooked meals straight from the oven. She was not as good as her mother an grandmother had been, but some of that magic had come with her across the sea nevertheless.

His next statement caused her to pause once more, and she frowned. "No... not really... but allowing oneself to stew over thungs is never good. I must simply turn my thoughts to something else. Cooking is relaxing especially with company." What had scarred her both mentally and physically was something she would never be able to escape. She could forgive herself and forgive the monster himself, but some wounds were just never meant to heal.

After tossing the meat into a pan and placing it in the oven she set to chopping the potatoes.

"As far as I know I'm still a man." Sylar said bluntly, entirely unaware of how humorous that statement might sound. But considering his body was morphing into some kind of nightmare predator, who knows maybe he'd end up genderless or swapping to a girl. Wouldn't that be a terrible plot device. Sylar let the odd thoughts slip from his mind as he observed the girl beginning to cook her suggest meal. "Sounds like my kind of home." He mumbled to her statement of a meal always having meat.

Sylar's sense of smell was far stronger than a normal person's, so smelling food as it was being prepared and cooked was almost mind boggling for him, those scents drove his instincts made and nearly made him drool some days. He'd tried to restrain himself so as to not freak this girl out by tearing into some raw chunk of salted beef. It seemed she was using this meal as a means to calm her nerves and move past her earlier moments. A fine coping mechanism Sylar figured. His own personality was pretty stark and cold, so he generally just dealt with whatever was on his plate and showed little reaction. "You're a positive person it seems." He said softly, stating his thoughts about her without a hint of restraint.

Sylar wasn't sure what had happened to the girl in the past, but everyone had skeletons in their closet. Even he knew that, though his own skeleton was more a creature in the back of his mind constantly tempting him to give up control as opposed to some past trauma. Everyone's experiences shaped them, another factor connecting everyone more than they normally thought. Sylar flared his nostrils for a moment, sniffing at the air as the meat met heat, and the proteins in it began the earliest stages of breaking down. "I could have never worked with food, the smell alone always makes me so hungry." He mumbled under his breath.

Her smile dipped a little. Home... it was still a sore subject, and probably would be for quite sometime. Sylar did not know that, though... so there was no reason to show her grief around him. She chose to work on without comment, and took to humming to herself faintly.

"You're a positive person it seems."

With the knife she had been using in one hand and an un-cut potato in the other, she turned to look at him. "I... try to be?" Andrea didn't think there was any good reason to slouch around being negative all the time. Still, she knew she had her moments just like everyone else. "I do not think I am positive all of the time, that would surely be an impossible feat... but I try best to smile and carry on. Why dwell on things, you know?"

Turning back to her work, she picked the tune back up where she'd left off. She was cutting up an absurd amount of potatoes; the washed, chopped pile continued to grow. "I know how you feel." Giggling, she set her knife down and fished out another deep pan. "but that is not a bad thing, you know. A good cook must always be invested in what they are preparing. The more invested you are, the harder you will work to make the dish turn out right!"

Adding a little water to the pan, she set it on a back burner and turned the heat up. "My mother's mother taught her to always sample the meal as it cooks. Flavors can change on a second to second basis."

The girl went about preparing food humming some tune as she worked. Did she enjoy working with food that much? Sylar couldn't remember what it was like to enjoy being busy, since most of the things he did with his life now were either dangerous, or done to keep himself from starving. Leisure must be an interesting concept. The girl began to discuss her attitude after his comment.

"It's a good quality. Some spend too much time in the past, and some of us spend too much time afraid of the future." In Sylar's case, his possible future was what scared him the most. What would he become when the last bits of human vanished beneath the black? He could only remain trapped in the present, always forced closer to a future he was terrified of. Andrea however seemed very enamored with preparing food, happily chopping potatoes or messing with the cook ware. It was odd to watch, a human shape messing with various objects some of which Sylar knew he'd be eating soon. His thermal sight really did make the world appear an entirely different way than it was.

"Sadly I"m not so good at restraining myself. I'll eat meat raw sometimes even." Sylar mentioned, revealing that his dietary habits were a little out of the ordinary compared to other peoples. He of course didn't reveal that his taste in types of meats extended into dangerous areas though. The girl went on to mention a lesson learned from her mother, something Sylar didn't have any memory of. An orphan boy abandoned by two parents who didn't even want him anyways, deep down he felt a pang of jealously towards Andrea but didn't act on it. "Nice that your mother taught you to cook, a good skill to have." He said instead.

"Too true." In her case, it was both, but for entirely different reasons. Her past was... sad and frightening. Her future was terrifying in that her dreams were in essence coming true. Getting married... a wedding, the prospect of someday having children and growing to a ripe old age with the love of her life. Exhilarating, but terrifying all the same. There were always doubts. Fears that lingered in the background, just out of sight.

"The appetite is a beast of it's own accord, yes. I have never eaten anything raw before though... does it not make you sick?" childlike curiosity crept into her voice, and she turned to face him. A sad smile graced her lips, faint but still there.

"Family was important... all of the women in my genetic line were great cooks, but they had to be. I had many cousins, nieces and nephews. The bigger the family, the greater the need to make use of every single grain of rice." She thought back to the last dinner she had been a part of at home. The faces of family members she'd never met before. Grandparents who only remembered what she looked like from photographs...

"Sadly, I will never be as talented as they were. Cookbooks and notes can only teach so much."

Sylar knew nothing of this girl's past or future, but he knew his own. A past as an outcast, the blind boy that was easy to pick on and nobody really cared about. A future...as a monster, a mindless creature with a taste for human flesh, and a present...that he wasn't sure what was. He was quite the confused and lost boy, who for now knew only survival. And the few friends he'd made along the way. It was odd, how the world affect two mutants who did share one thing in common, the obvious fact that they were different than anybody else.

Sylar remembered the first time he ate raw meat, that nasty iron flavor, the heaving as he tried to keep it down. But with time this infection of his got to his stomach, or maybe he just grew to like it either way now he could eat meat raw...and loved it. "The first time was awful, I was so hungry that I had to, but I just wanted to throw it all back up." An old memory, from long ago when he still had human hands. "But my body...grew more into this animal, and soon the taste grew on me. It gets...addicting." His voice grew a little creepy as he spoke, furthering his image as some kind of monster or animal, he was what he was. A predator.

The girl spoke of family, a topic Sylar didn't care about very much at all. Others had family, others cared about their kin, Sylar? He was alone, the first and last of his kind as far as he was concerned. "That sounds..."He trailed off for a second, his voice almost condescending. "Nice I guess. I have no family, so my taste in food only has to matter to me." His voice grew bland again. The girl downplayed her ability to cook, and Sylar really wasn't much for encouragement, especially since he'd never eaten her cooking. "I wouldn't know, never eaten it. But does it matter? As long as whoever you're feeding is happy you're considered good right?" He finished.

Slowly, she was growing concerned. She'd pegged him as a student, or at least someone who lived in the mansion. According to what he was saying, however, he must not have always been. Guilt mixed with the concern, and she glanced away from him. "Is... that like sushi? Someone tried to get me to eat it once... but I don't like the smell of raw fish." She had no idea what kind of past he had; no idea that in comparison she'd been living like a queen her whole life. Always had food, always had shelter, always had someone watching out for her in some form or another.

How insulting her words could be was completely lost on her as she tried to figure out what to say. "You are right... It doesn't matter all that much. It's a cultural thing, I think. I am from Greece, originally. It is different from the culture here."

How upsetting would it be if...or when Andrea found out the boy before her was no student or resident of this home, but a local creature just stopping in for a snack. Not nearly as upsetting if she knew he cannibal thoughts, or was sometimes brutally violent. But tonight he was just another mutant kid, with a never ending hunger. She asked if it was like sushi, which Sylar had never had before actually. "Dunno, never had sushi. If you ever had a rare cut of steak though, it's kind of like that. Only alot more...uh bloody." He shrugged, realizing explaining eating raw meat was probably not very girl friendly.

Sylar wasn't so bad off though, as Andrea was thinking. The boy was clever, and had a natural talent for surival that allowed him to survive until he could make friends. Though comfort wise, she'd have no idea what his life was like. So she was from Greece, Sylar had never left the state before so he wondered if it was nice there. "Never been, is it a nice country?" He asked, switching the topic from the previous dietary inquiry. "Never left the state actually, only culture I got was from books when I was younger." Sylar remembered reading novels set in other countries, reading about their differences to New York. Though to be fair this state was pretty melting pot for the states. People from around the world lived here, though he didn't remember his parent's have any foreign relatives or traits when he was a kid.