William had tiredly rubbed at his eyes from beneath the rim of his glasses, feeling a sudden strain behind them. That affliction being mixed with his headache had felt almost maddening, and there’s also a distant buzzing in his ears, but he manages to ignore it. “—You didn’t.” He says quickly, shaking his head in an absent manner to stress his protest. “—offend me, I mean.” He had added in clarification. When the other continued speaking, he had returned his gaze to the him. In comparison to the others timidness, his own expression had appeared completely impassive— asides from a slight indication of mute surprise. However, lurking beneath the surface of the others shy nature was something else entirely. It’s something melancholic. William could see it, he could even recognize it for what it was, and In a strange way, he could even relate. “I’m just — coming down with something.” He offered in explanation, blaming his headaches on some nonexistence cold or fever.
When the other returned the topic of conversation back to the crime scene, he had momentarily lowered his gaze, taking in the others words with consideration. “It’s merely his signature. His way of signing his work.” He had commented, “It’s his design.” He then added shortly after, the single statement coming out in a low murmur, almost dark in it’s demeanor. He then lifted his gaze, peering at the other man from beneath his curly bangs, his expression still impassive. He was suddenly overcome with an onslaught of thoughts and feelings, emotions that weren’t his own. ” — Had to punish him —  cut of his dick to teach him a very valuable lesson —  not to think inappropriately of what was mine.” He says, as if speaking through a mindset that was not his own. Slowly, he was becoming Sylar. Immediately, he realizes his own slip. He was drifting into the mind of the man responsible, but sometimes that happens, as a result of him getting too close. Â
William shakes his head frantically, quickly looking away from the other man, almost as if ashamed. He’s got a look of mute surprise upon his face, and he blinks repeated, as if coming back to awareness. ” —He uh — ” He tries again, trying to cover up the oddity of his own behavior, ” —wasn’t mad at his partner. It didn’t feel like a vengeance directed at the intended viewer. It felt more like— ” He had paused, allowing himself to think for a brief moment, trying to conjure the correct feeling, and the right word to describe it. ” — Excitement. He was almost too happy to kill this man. He wanted his partner to see it as token of his love — a gift. It’s not to taunt him.” He says, flashing of images flickering through his head. Momentarily, he sees the victim screaming for forgiveness, promising not to think of the others lover vulgarly again. “He’s like a child with a favorite toy.” He added, glancing at Sylar, “He doesn’t like to share.”
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