Elle was missing. She had not been to see him in some time since The Marker had left them, taking its lies with it. Sylar had developed a headache from the presence of the monolith which had only abated in the last day. All his thoughts were focused on where to find Elle Bishop, former murder victim now alive once more for him to have a second chance to prove he was a hero to her. He could save her. No one else. He would save her.
Stalking the common area surrounding the complexes, Sylar was perturbed to find a woman -not Elle- who seemed to be lost. She had a look on her face which he could not define until he analyzed it and even then he was uncertain of his analysis. Emotions were too complex for his gift from time to time. He could understand how things worked. People were often harder. They did not follow the order of things. Too many times he encountered people who operated based on their own system of checks and balances which was indefinable.
Sylar hated things which could not be defined.
It was one of many reasons he had for hating himself.
"Are you lost? You look lost. Have you just arrived? It can be disorienting at first. It was for me."
None of what he said was useful enough. What could he offer her to help her? Heroes offered to help. They did not give inane commentary which fulfilled no other purpose than silencing the silence between two people.
"I am Gabriel, called Sylar. I have been here since the lying marker came and left. I am a hero. I can give you directions if you need them."
Much more useful. He could be effective as a hero. Speech was necessary for humans. Heroes often had to do things which benefited those less than themselves. It was somehow a part of the job description he was certain.