Peter was still reeling from all of this. His old life had just met his new one, and the results had been less than optimistic. Not only was Sylar alive, but Claire had brought him here. Part of him wanted to hold her, part wanted to throttle her, and as a result, there was some relief when she ran away. Only some, since there had also been pain and tears on her part.
Sylar. He'd told Sylar to leave. To leave. He'd let the monster walk out the door - run out the door, his mind tried to correct, but the result was the same. The bastard was still alive.
He was still angry, speechless and nearly breathless with rage. Sylar calling them the monsters would have been laughable, if it hadn't served to further fuel Peter's anger.
Then Gabriel spoke, and for an instant, Peter's anger pitched and swelled. He looked up at the young man, all too ready to see the face of a killer.
Instead, he saw Gabriel, being very Gabriel-like and fixing his glasses. The well of rage slammed to a stop and dropped away, leaving him feeling drained. Quiet for the moment, it would no doubt rebuild itself as the full scope of the last few moments sunk in, but for this instant, the suggestion Gabriel had made sounded like the most perfect, obvious thing in the world.
"Please."
The word broke the tension holding his body, and Peter sank to the ground as it gave way, slumped in a sitting position, still facing the front doors.