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Sylar didn't drop his guard, however he did continue to eat a bit during this odd interaction between dinosaur and monster. A normal person might see eating during conversation as rude, but Sylar wasn't a person, and Amber wasn't talking, so could manners really apply to the situation at hand? Sylar didn't think so, though he rarely cared about manners at all. His tail gleamed in the moonlight, a weapon carved from obsidian, whose purpose was clearly violent. The blade was curved, but not bulbous like a scorpion's. It was more like a sword, sleek and beautiful.

Amber's chirps were more than enough to converse with Sylar. He was an animal himself, and most animals could only communicate with noise, words were a nicety of human society, and Sylar could get by without them for long stretches of time if need be. However, Amber's shift meant they could exchange "pleasantries" soon enough. Sylar's senses became glued to her form, his ears picking up on bones breaking, and muscles tearing, a form shifting. His eyes began to pick up heat as her form returned to the world of the living. A slender form, a form Sylar could easily discern. A woman's body. Sylar apparently had a knack for bumping into girl mutants as of late. A boon for some, but to Sylar it didn't mean much, he wasn't that much of a romantic or womanizer.

Sylar could see her signature, and determine her form, but he couldn't truly appreciate a nude body. His eyes were unable to see such details, leaving him rather unimpressed or concerned as she donned her attire. "So you are a mutant. What's a girl doing out here so late." He said moving forward a bit from his meal and sitting on his heels. His nose wrinkled, sniffing the air around him, zoning in on Amber's own scent. "You hunt too?" He wasn't sure what she shifted into, but it might make sense of her to be out here if that was her purpose.

Sylar struggled with his humanity versus his inner predator, something few in the world could relate too, but when he had food, that was when the beast was sated and he was at his most human. He was still defensive and skittish, but it was these times when he was easiest to interact with. His teeth tore up his meal with no effort, his belly filling with fresh venison. He wasn't however, too distracted to pay attention to his surroundings. Amber called out, both with a vocal chirp, and a step onto the ground. The earth in the park was soft, and most people couldn't hear a thing. But Sylar could pick up the faintest of pressures, the displacement of grass as flesh took it's place.

His head shot up straight towards where the sounds had come from, his senses burning a hole into that spot. He hissed again, an alien noise like the mixture of a cat and a viper, a threat to keep away. However, this time he followed that with words, his voice hard and combative. "I hear you out there!" He bellowed, Amber's temperature in an undead form was too low to properly distinguish. He could catch bits of movement in the swathe of gray that made up the world for him, but in the park even this was nearly impossible to figure out with the natural ambient temperature. "This is my kill, I won't let you take it!" Sylar wasn't sure what Amber was, but his first thought was a thief, or scavenger after his meal.

Sylar turned his head left and right, panning the area to make sure wasn't looking for something hiding before turning back to where Amber's call had originated. "You some kind of Mutie?" He asked, agitation still present in his voice. Sylar realized if it was a mutant, some kind of invisible one, he could probably scare them off. But if he was dealing with some other animal, he'd feel pretty stupid right now barking in the dark.

Sylar panned his vision, seeking any signatures large enough to register as a threat. He'd heard Amber steps, light enough to concern him, but also light enough to make it hard to find her. His tail swished back and forth behind him, nervous, but not yet scared enough to fight. Her zombified form meant Amber didn't have a heat signature, at least not one warm enough to register as living. Sylar couldn't see her, at least he couldn't quite distinguish her from the environment. But death had a very pungent smell for predators. He could smell the scent of a creature deceased, and not that of his freshly slaughtered dinner. He felt confused, unsure of what exactly had spooked him. He hissed, a hideous noise unique to Sylar, a high pitched monstrous noise meant to threaten anything that could hear it.

He remained alert, but his hands went to work on his meal, his finger's like a butcher's knife cleaved into the deer carcass, carving up steak sized chunks of muscle. He'd eat as much as he could here, there weren't any refrigerator's in his sewer lairs, so he couldn't keep fresh meat. And while normal people would vomit at the thought of consuming raw fresh meat, Sylar wasn't normal anymore, his predatory instincts adored the taste, and he'd eagerly enjoy a meal so rare. He spoke to himself, his voice soft but satisfied. "A lucky break for me, normally it's just rabbits out here."

He tore into a chunk of meat he'd cut off, causing the stench of the deer's death to stain the air around him. He'd been acting so "normal" lately with his various mutant encounters, this time giving into his predator kind of felt natural and healthy for him. Amber's form and stillness had essentially made her invisible to Sylar for the moment, though if she shifted, she'd very quickly get attention from the sewer dwelling monster.

Sylar had been known by a few names in his three years as a mutant. People called him a monster, or a beast. But his more famous names were those coined by the tabloids, they called him the Scourge of Manhattan, and others called him the Predator in the dark. Tonight Sylar was living up to that name, tonight he was stalking in the park. Sylar sometimes ducked into parks at night to hunt, alot of the time all he could find was a squirrel or two, and sometimes rabbits. But today Sylar was quite happy about his luck. Because he picked up a scent that was fairly rare in New York. He smelled a Deer.

Sylar crept along, making not a sound as his mutated form moved through the park grounds, keeping to bushes or trees when he could. This was a chance he couldn't throw away or mess up, so his mind had dropped fully into his instincts, suppressing almost all normal thought in favor of his animal side. His tail was low, almost slithering along the ground behind him as he came closer. He could see the animals heat faintly in the distance, and he stopped for a moment to plan his attack. He'd have to accelerate fast, close the distance before the deer had a chance to build it's own speed. He could outrun the animal, but the less work he did, meant the more energy had for leaving the park after the kill.

He took a deep quiet breath, his senses focused on the doe before him. She was in an open space, close to a park path, grazing on the grass there. Sylar preferred the cityscape to be honest, his ability to climb one of his better skills, but on an open run like this, he could sprint faster than any normal person could hope to. His form was obscured behind a bush as he prepared his rush. He felt the stillness in the air, the doe's head rising up, perhaps having some inkling of danger in the dark. Sylar sprung, his claws hitting the dirt hard enough to tear chunks of grass and earth apart, his body moving like a big cat. The deer turned and began to run, but Sylar had a better start, more traction, he closed the distance within 20 seconds, leaping into the creature and knocking it down onto the path.

The deer let out a distressed cry, kicking its legs and struggling with all it's might. But in a brutal display of power, Sylar ended the fight. He had bitten the doe's throat as he tackled her, and now he applied force, sinking his mutant jaws into the creatures throat, while his tail rose up like a scorpions. It hung for a moment, before coming down, the knife like blade piercing the animal's body and ending it's life. Sylar felt the life drain from the deer, a brutal display of predation, but he felt no pity, no guilt. Part of Sylar wondered if he should be bothered when killing an animal only brought him satisfaction.

However during the display he'd allowed himself to grow lax in awareness of his surroundings. He heard something, footsteps maybe? Whatever it was, he quickly pulled up from the deer's body, staring into the distance. His hood had caught too much air as he ran, and came off, revealing his dirty mane of red hair, monstrous eyes, and a mouth colored in fresh blood.

Sylar had continued to kind of pace around the living room while he waited. He wasn't one for sitting still, and he figured it would probably be bad if he tried to sit on the sofa or a chair. Living in the sewers, wearing torn stolen clothing, and dumpster diving all tended to leave a scent on a person, and Sylar's nose could easily pick apart the smells on his form. Maybe he should have stolen a fresh outfit, or something before coming. Girls didn't like bad smells, at least his mother always used to complain about odors. He wondered if Kealey had noticed an odor. Normal people didn't have a sense of smell as powerful as Sylar's, but his odor was probably still pretty bad to the average person.

Sylar wasn't even sure what he would say. It made sense to him to come in the middle of the night, but even if Serena was still up, wouldn't she be tired by this time of the night? Sylar sat for a moment, a crouch with his wrists resting on his knees. "Do I just say Hi? Amazing house?" He frowned slightly. Sylar had never really had friends, and though he wasn't sure he could call Serena a friend having met her only once, part of him wanted to interact with her at least somewhat normally. "She's just a girl, a mutant girl. A really friendly mutant girl." Sylar lifted a hand to his head and scratched, very softly, but scratched with a bit of annoyance. "I feel like I'm being stupid here."

Sylar pulled his hood forward a bit, the feeling of hiding his face helping to calm him a bit. He got up and began to pace around the room again, ending up before the television. He reached up and pressed the palm of his hand against the smooth glass. Weird how he could get so spooked by something he couldn't perceive. Even with his thermal vision, he still wondered how different life would be if he'd been born with normal eyes, instead of broken ones. A weird comparison to this situation here, he'd met Serena once, but now coming to meet her a second time, not knowing if she'd show up, or be happy to see him kind of bothered him. Maybe this was a normal fear for people trying to make friends, but as someone who'd always been too afraid to try, he'd never really experienced the anxiety of social interaction before.

He sighed softly, remaining before the TV, his tail swaying behind himself in a bit of mild frustration, before he heard a soft sound in the distance of the house. Movement, footsteps, either Kealey coming back, or maybe Serena? He turned toward the hall way and stood up, realizing if it was neither of them, he'd be in a bit of trouble again.

Sylar as a mutant, was a creature of the present. His mind rarely went back into his past, nor did he ever really think on his future past the next day or so. He'd never had the chance to have a job, and really it's not like a blind person can do the average jobs that most people do. He had been born handicapped, and that had stunted his entire life until his mutation. If he'd ever sat and thought on it, he might see the benefits of his x-gene, but not until he stopped living in a sewer and eating stolen food. Part of him wondered why a person would want art inscribed onto their flesh, but he figured being blind, he couldn't understand the pleasure of a picture like normal people did.

He shook his right hand as he finished grooming his left, and then switched, sharpening and cleaning the right hand. His right claw was more developed than his left, the plating on it a bit thicker and more skeletal. He realized she said she came to America, so she wasn't born here? He perked up for a second. "You weren't born here?" He wasn't uncomfortable with a foreigner, but he couldn't remember having met anybody not from America in his life, so he was kind of curious where Kiva came from. As the conversation moved forward, he felt a connection to Kiva grow, she had to deal with having claws, just like he did. Sylar's claws were made from a hard material, it took alot of the sensitivity in his hands away, and if hers were like his, he could imagine drawing would be very difficult.

"I'm glad you can do something you like. The feeling in my hands..." He stopped, lifting his right and kind of showing it off, turning it back and forth before him, then straight back to cleaning it. "Went down quite a bit as these grew in, they're like a casing, my old fingers locked inside. Alot harder to handle." He finished, though unlike Kiva, Sylar didn't normally need very compact or accurate hand movement. He spent most of his effort cutting things apart or smashing them, which was easy when you had claws sharper than knives.

"Do other mutants like being painted?" To be purposely put into a picture was hard for Sylar to process, his main goal was to always remain hidden and unnoticed. So being put into a portrait seemed entirely counter intuitive. But a portrait wasn't a picture, one was evidence, the other was art. Maybe being painted was an entirely different experience.

Sylar crept into the empty hallway, his curiosity having urged him to explore his new environment. Kealey would be awhile, having gone off to find Serena, which meant Sylar no longer had a decent excuse for being in this building, nor did he have someone to direct him where he should be. However as long as she stayed close to the living room he should be fine, he could hear Kealey when she got close to returning and be there. However he heard a new noise from down the hall. Words, foot steps, possible stumbling? Sylar quickly retreated into the common room. He really didn't need to hide since he'd been invited inside, but a person's habits don't die on the first night of change.

He wanted to slink into the corner next to what be the TV, and hide there, but he figured this room must be lighted well and that'd be pointless. So instead he hid behind a chair opposite to the big couch he'd examined earlier. Hopefully whoever it was would pass right through, and not take a seat. Sylar's instincts quickly shushed any sound he made. His breathing nearly inaudible, and his tail curled and half wrapped against his back, so it wouldn't poke out from the chair like some bad comedy sketch. He waited, his sense's figuring out the situation.

Voice not very deep, probable woman? She wasn't just passing through either, he could hear Gina stop, and the sounds she made as her hand probed the couch in search of something. This was an open space, a living room, and a TV was here. The controller for the TV? Why in the couch though? Either way, it meant he was now trapped here with her, but he seemed to have been unnoticed so far. She was looking for something, so she should be distracted, which meant Sylar could make use of his last sense. He leaned towards the left, peeking from behind the seat and allowing his eyes to pick up her heat. He immediately knew she was a mutant, her form was humanoid, but had obvious physical features. Wings, large oddly shaped feet, and what had to be a tail. Some kind of bird mutant, or maybe a bat? Either way, she was a physical mutant like himself, some of his fear dissipating.

However he was still a stranger in their house, so he quickly retreated behind his seat. If she was distracted looking for the remote, that meant she wanted to watch TV, maybe he could sneak out once she was engrossed in the television. Sylar never cared about television, but he remembered his mother often got so engrossed with it she'd lose track of anything else. Hopefully this girl would as well. Part of him wondered though, he was sure he'd heard her speaking earlier, and to herself?. He remained motionless, thinking about how to get past her.