He wasn't startled - not the second time - because he was beginning to understand this now, understand the glimmer of fear that flickered that the claustrophobic thing that had killed him was still there, and instinct alone made Peter react the way he did. He didn't take hold of him again immediately, but dropped to just one hand on one arm, and felt the first tremor of the poison flicker across Peter's shoulder and down his back.

Sylar dropped his eyes at the plea, the call of his name, and wondered what he could say, what he could possibly offer that would make dying less horrible than it already was. He slid his hand up higher, as though resting it on Peter's shoulder could hold back the muscular twitching. It was definitely slower this time, and though it was a good sign, he knew that it would be worse for that. At this rate it could take days to sweep the poison from his system, and how many times would Peter have to suffer before that happened?

"I could kill you," he said, finally, and he wondered if that was a comfort, but his eyes were firm, as though he sincerely believed in what he was offering. "I'd be more gentle than this."