First Impressions
He was glad that he had gotten to meet her family early into the relationship. He hadn't had many girlfriends, but he knew that the "family dinner" was usually especially awkward. He was glad to have it out of the way, considering he knew her family much better than even she did.
Her mother was sweet, let him in without question and smiled. Offered him a beverage and asked him if they had ever met before because oh, you look just so familiar. She just could put her finger on it.
He was glad to assist.
The boy was nothing special, unworthy of holding the title of "brother." He shattered the boy thoroughly before Mr. Bennet even came home. His last words made Sylar smile.
The boy gazed stupidly at the ball of fire in Sylar's hand, out of his mind from the blood loss and torture.
"Look at the size of that…" he had slurred.
The smell of his incinerated flesh was far less repugnant than the actual boy.
He hadn't taken much joy in the death of her mother or brother; it was her father he was waiting for. He heard the door open, keys jangle, daddy's home!
Surprise, papa.
He made sure to kill Bennet slowly, carefully extracting each scream from him like a dedicated musician. He wanted to know which kind of pain caused which sound, how loud, how soft, how long… Thank god for the waitress. He would be able to listen to Bennet sniveling and begging for death for the rest of his life. It was music to his ears. Far more effective than rap.
He was waiting for her now. He sat at the table, her table, drinking the beverage her mother had made for him only hours ago. The brandy didn't mix well with blood, but victory sweetened the taste.
He wasn't selfish; he had brought his mother too. He arranged her carefully in the closet for safekeeping until Claire got home. It wouldn't be fair for him to go through the embarrassing process of getting acquainted with her family if she didn't do the same with his.
Sylar smiled. He had a feeling that he was going to get along with her family just fine.
.end.