It was delicious to watch his reactions, satisfying in that superior way that she deemed herself above all others whom weren't Pureblooded or Slytherin.
Tucking her wand away, she bestowed a Cheshire grin on Sylar, walking over to gently take his chin in her hand, pouring faux honey sympathy on him. "Poor dear, I brought you here. You fell, cracked your head so loud I thought you'd broken your pretty little skull. But I was able to repair your wounds, though your memories might be slightly fuzzy." Narcissa let go of chin, pointing at the picture, but looking straight at him. "You need to find her. Claire Bennet. She'll help you remember your purpose. She knows everything."
She stepped away, hands clasped behind her back and a venomous smile daunting her face. "Now go play."