Sylar's dream space is confused and wrong, somehow, for more than the fact that it's like looking through a kaleidoscope, his office in the city superimposed over Manhattan's skyline, superimposed over something else. Something green and sharp and twisted.
He doesn't seem to notice, though. He just turns around and looks at him, his brow furrowing. "How did you -- this isn't -- what?"
He's understandably addled, both from withdrawal and from Matt forcing him in here.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2011-12-21 07:44 pm (UTC)He doesn't seem to notice, though. He just turns around and looks at him, his brow furrowing. "How did you -- this isn't -- what?"
He's understandably addled, both from withdrawal and from Matt forcing him in here.