The scene shifted slowly from the swirl of confusion that left Gabriel baffled at seeing a mirror (well, not quite mirror, but more...reflection if he were allowed to go unwashed for a week or so) of himself in the lobby downstairs when he was clearly standing on the top landing, but he could catch a few of the words that were being exchanged, a lingering dread growing at the threatening stance at Peter took, the word 'kill' echoing up to him a few times, the lightening arching on his hands, and...
Fuck. Sylar?
Well. That was exactly what they needed right now, wasn't it? The vampires and demons weren't nearly enough that they had to drop...drop... this in on him.
Shifting slowly, Gabriel plopped himself down, sitting on the top step and propping his chin on his folded hands as he tried to remain as calm and detached as he possibly could at the visual picture that this whole situation presented. It wasn't exactly an easy task, and he wanted rather badly to insert himself into the situation...to try and prevent bloodshed no matter how much he knew Peter wanted it, no matter how much it might be justified.
It was probably a better idea for him to remain a calm (ha), neutral (haha) third party (if he was already involved, did it even count like that?) observer for the time being.