"That's what I'm here for," John quipped with a friendly grin.

Although he often wonders that himself⠀—⠀just how often does God oversee his greatest creations? And how could he possibly watch over everything at every moment? But that, he thought, is why he's been given the opportunity to help.

"Please, stay as long as you'd like. He's a pretty good host."

The tall man slinked down the center aisle and sat himself in the pew adjacent the other man. A hand outstretched across the wide gap between them, looking for a shake.

introductions. that is a nice change of pace; nice to have someone see him as a blank slate. that's all he has been seeing, ever since …

his own hand extends to grasp the priest's; firm, calloused. it makes up for the confidence that his features betray, ″ nathan petrelli. ‶

a word plays on the tip of his tongue on instinct, but he rolls it back, waiting for his limb to be returned before saying anything else. in one instant, he's a poor, lost soul on his knees — now, he has some semblance of control. he has, for so long, followed his own gospel.

… or was it ever really his?

@scnators said : [    HOSPITAL    ]    —    for    claire!

❝    is    it    a    smart    idea    for    me    to    come    to    a    hospital?    ❞    she    asks    looking    at    him    before    looking    around    the    room.    the    very    private    room.    ❝    at    least    whoever    decided    that    i    needed    a    hospital    decided    to    spring    for    the    private    room.    ❞

amateur in his motions — or perhaps simply jaded. from the exhaustion, from the disbelief he's brought upon himself that he is here … with her. the child he has spent the last sixteen years thinking about. a child that cannot be harmed by anything physical, yet he is cognitive of the very pressing fact that he has, without question, done so to her emotionally; mentally, maybe, also.

so he is less than immaculate in appearance ( and mind ), prying himself from the chair to smooth his clothes down. but he does not dare reach for her. he may have paid for this room, for her comfort, but that, so far, has been the only thing.

too little, too late.

below is a list of starters from both sides of the conversation , with prompts geared toward scenes involving some sort of confrontation. prompts rage from friendly to not so friendly. please consider following for more prompts and please do not steal!

❛ i can't believe you hid this from me. ❜

❛ that's it. we need to talk about this. right here. right now. ❜

❛ don't see how we can get around talking about this anymore. ❜

❛ you can't just keep avoiding me! ❜

❛ i'm not leaving until we talk about this. ❜

❛ come on just . . . talk to me. ❜

❛ all this time . . . and it was all a lie? ❜

❛ i trusted you. ❜

❛ did you think i wasn't going to notice? ❜

❛ start talking. now. ❜

❛ when are you going to stop lying to me? ❜

❛ i just wanna talk. ❜

❛ can we talk about this? please? ❜

❛ i came to talk this out. ❜

❛ you and i can work this thing out. ❜

❛ enough lies. tell me the truth! ❜

❛ i just wanna know what happened. ❜

❛ you can tell me. ❜

❛ just . . . start from the beginning. ❜

❛ are we gonna talk about this like grownups? ❜

❛ can you just be an adult about this for once?! ❜

❛ i didn't think it was gonna be so hard to talk about it. ❜

❛ i don't wanna talk about it. ❜

❛ i said leave it alone! ❜

❛ it's not that simple. ❜

❛ can we just . . . not talk about this right now? ❜

❛ i didn't want to see you get hurt. ❜

❛ okay fine. you wanna talk about it? here it is , ❜

❛ i kinda hoped you would just ignore it. ❜

❛ okay , fine just . . promise you won't get mad. ❜

❛ i don't wanna lie to you. ❜

❛ i wish it were that simple. ❜

❛ we passed the talking stage a long time ago. ❜

❛ the truth is more painful. ❜

❛ the beginnings , still a little hazy. ❜

Dark eyes flicker towards the coloured panes of a stained glass window — the orange and yellow glass held strong against the seemingly never-ending rain. He always loved how the rain made it appear as though the glass was melting.

A nod, then attention returned to the mysterious visitor. The priest had seen him amongst the congregation before, but was never fast enough to catch him after mass.

John cleared his throat and quoted:

"He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’ and to the rain shower, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’"

the scoff it renders stays in his throat, and in its place, a quiet cough hits the side of his hand. harder to speak, to swallow without a reminder. from this angle, nothing is to be seen — at least, not by man.

god can see all, as they say. perhaps he can see too much. that's why it rains so in the summertime ... disapproval, resentment. actions speak louder than the words he will never provide.

″ i take it he doesn't check very often, ‶ who enters his humble abode, he means. billions of people in this world and only a handful claim to be touched ... it's all about speculation and never about practice. after all, what makes him extraordinary is nothing but synthetic; a carbon copy of something more.

his flesh bruises and scars like an ordinary individual's — his brain suffers the consequences just so. is this normalcy, or are the cracks simply too wide to fill, as they're used to?

he rises, laying his sight on the man. about as worn. god neglects those so reverent, too. why is that? ″ i won't overstay my welcome. ‶

'Real stick in the mud type, huh.'

"I'm not the one you should be concerned about, so drop the tough guy act, pal." A twist on the other's word, the apathy shining through the cracks. "Better worry about the garbage running around murdering the people, rather than my curiosity. I'm just here to do my job.

Frankly, he's only mildly irked that the murder was so sloppy...and not of his work.

"But hey," his face brightened once more, the sudden flip as if the previous was irrelevant to his mind. "If it's not me questioning about this later, you'll still have to deal with the press regardless. People deserve to know the truth."

Like he gave a shit about the people, but hey, the other doesn't know that.

"But, I'll get outta ya hair for now, wouldn't want to blow up on the next poor sap who has to interview you."

With a dismissive wave, he did as promsied: five seconds there, and he let the other be. Would he return? Perhaps.

″ i also have some garbage right in front of me, ‶ he quips in the same manner as him, the pretentious tangent going through one ear and out the other. he doesn't have time for this, he isn't going to make time for grimy citizens who would rather smear blood over ⁄ into their mouths than practice the decent human act of respect. to appreciate that their own temple is intact and are able to stride around with all to see — not to gawk and gossip at those who can no longer.

but then comes the surprise: the stranger does not stay, and once again, it leaves nathan skeptical. he isn't an idiot — far from it. this ❛ job ❜ he calls such won't be discontinued because of one man with the right to condemn. no, that was not how they operated; it would be foolish to think otherwise, to believe in the best of people after observing the worst.

so his instincts are justified, of course. after an afternoon of reassurances and ❛ you will be fine ❜ over and over, nathan ventures back out into the busy street, scene visible from his position ... his eyes narrowed, the street lamps at his aid to identify the person loitering around it.

when will people ever learn ...

″ hey! ‶ he starts, step quick through the sea of pedestrians, focus locked on this man. perhaps it is due to the goings - on of his own life, or the obscenity of this horror - filled obsession he has noticed a gradual rise in, but it pissed him off. the lack of control pisses him off. a natural consequence of his age and a particular upbringing, no doubt.

are you kidding me ?

[ name ] ,  what just happened ?

hey !  what’d you do that for ?

did you plan on ever telling me ?

do you want to tell me the truth ,  this time ?

you seriously think i could’ve done this ?

did you know about this ?

[ name ] ,  what were you thinking ?!

can we talk ?  alone ?

why are you doing all of this ?

it can’t be that bad ,  right ?

haven’t you heard the stories ?

who did this to you ?

what are you insinuating ?

what did you think was gonna happen ?!

you think i could do something like that ?

who do you think you are ?

why won’t you let me help you ?

do you have any evidence of that ?

can we put away our differences for a second ?

where have you been ? 

is that  …  blood ?

what’s your problem ?

are you real ?

where’s your sense of adventure ?

would you kill for me ?

you’re  [ name ] ,  aren’t you ?

why can’t you just let it go ?

do you want me to stay ?

what if we left  …  ran away ?

what else was i supposed to do ?

how did you get this scar ?

could you give me a hand with this ?

do you ever stop talking ?

you’ve never done this before ,  have you ?

where do you think you’re going ?

how many fingers am i holding up ?

what can i say to make it better ?

why can’t we all just get along ?

can i stay the night ?

what’s that supposed to mean ?

where did your common sense go ?

you seriously don’t believe me ?

what aren’t you telling me ?

do you have a minute ?

why are you lying ?

you’re gonna walk away from this ?

where am i supposed to go ?

can we stop and think about this rationally ?

how long has it been since you’ve slept ?

why can’t we be civil about this ?

what makes you so special ?

where is all of this coming from ?

how are we gonna get out of here ?

you’ll never leave me ,  right ?

were you in on this ?

care to join me for a bit ?

shows what you know ,  doesn’t it ?

do you want to get out of here ?

what were you expecting to happen ?

what are you working on ?

i can tell you’re upset ,  what happened ?

when can i see you again ?

where do we go from here ?

can you sit up for me ?

how long have you been awake ?

what are you getting out of this ?

can we put this behind us ?

where are you ?  nobody’s heard from you .

how can i make this go away ?

were you following me ?

where does it hurt ?  show me .

[ name ] ,  what the hell ?

hey  …  can i ask you something ?

you’re not gonna tell me where we’re going ?

really ?  you’re gonna do that right here ?

are you even listening to me ?

we can help each other ,  right ?

hey  …  did you hear that ?

you have no idea who i am ,  do you ?

how long have you known ?

what exactly are you asking me to do ?

how was i supposed to know that ?

are you new around here ?

can you stop and listen to me for a second ?

do you think there’s something wrong with me ?

what ,  you think i’m not qualified ?

why did you help me ?

can you just look at me ,  please ?

what can i do to convince you ?

where did we go wrong ?

oh my god ,  are you bleeding ?

why the long face ?

are you trying to get yourself killed ?

what do you make of this ?

how much do you wanna bet ?

you’re sure this will work ?

why are you so concerned about me ?

what are you trying to prove ?

did you ever care about me ?

are you drunk ?

isn’t this amazing ?

how long have you been standing there ?

what are you suggesting ?

why are you such a pessimist ?

did you know them ?

can we call it a day ?

"I could, or I could be an asshole about it," he quipped, the cheeky, but plastic-like grin still plastered his face, to demonstrate this was in good nature (or so he seemed to pretend), and reserved for the vast surly individuals he interviewed. Like this guy in front of him; real piece of work this one is. Not that Danny, or rather "Jed", as his alias at the gazette was, gave a shit: he had his interest splayed out here in front of him; only thing keeping him barred from it was all the yellow tape criss-crossing the entrance, and the five-o hovering around like a gang of angry wasps. Truly, he was not entirely interested in the other's presence, but rather the macabre incident that had just occured.

And he did not appreciate being interrogated himself.

"Don't mind me, just pretend I'm not here," he waved the other off, not inquiring as to what he wanted of him regardless. "I'm leaving in about five seconds anyway."

Translation: 'I'd like to observe without you playing twenty-questions.'

this wasn't anything new. a man of his stature, his short yet promising legal career, had fielded the likes of this one already: apathetic; smart - mouthed; a royal stick in his side that was neither needed or appreciated — especially not at a time like this, when emotion was high and the gore was splattered all over the tarmac; hardly concealed beneath the faded sheet and worn plastic.

nathan swallows, jaw set as his eyes met that of this man's. he isn't in the right mind or mood to be civil; he has a role to fulfil. he has to be the man who everyone needed him to be. it is expected of him — he is expected to be great.

″ if you leave five seconds early, you'll avoid getting yourself into trouble, ‶ he warns, tone leaving no room for debate — though, he knows, it is never that simple. if he is part of the press ( and judging by his appearance, he expects a worse occupation, if possible ) then they would be there awhile ... but not if nathan could help it.

he isn't the nicest man in the world, either. whatever satisfaction being sought will not be granted where he's concerned. still so young yet so determined.

" that's okay! I'm just looking for something to eat! " he says very eerily nonchalantly. As much as nerio knows he could get dirty , he is still very polite , manners were drilled into his head after all. The boy would ask again , his posture changes, bruised hands out in front of him and they grab onto the front of his dirtied hospital gown.

" i can have it right? is it okay if i have what's in there? "

❛ something to eat. ❜ here, in the spitting rain, the street rats scuttering about as this poor, seemingly unwell boy is.

nathan's hand retracts a tad, guard lowering as he heard more, the concern unmovable in return. a pang in his chest struck at the indifference, clear that the wrong move here would be to turn a blind - eye and allow him to consume the remnants of a late night dinner party that no longer met its own standards. in spite of himself, he wasn't prepared to be so callous.

″ no. you can't. it'll make you sick, ‶ a sympathetic touch to his words, now, creating a barrier with his body, so the trash was out of the boy's line - of - sight.