He really didn't have much of an invested interest in getting to his feet, but he couldn't do anything to stop it either as Sylar dragged him up and back onto the floor of the bathroom. The movement made his head swim slightly -- he still looked pale, drained of any excess of blood, and it took him a few moments to adjust to his own height.

But it was the laugh that seemingly made him flinch from surprise. He was pretty sure he'd be fine if he didn't hear himself laugh for the rest of the week, but he hadn't expected one from Sylar. Not that he was upset by it, it simply caught him off guard, but then there was a towel being dropped on his head and Peter furrowed his brow, warming slowly under the cotton.

"Yeah, i'm fine."

That was only partially true -- he was nowhere close to fine, but he could stand, proving as much when he ruffled the towel into his hair before pulling it away and looking down at himself, pants dripping a pink puddle onto the bathroom floor, one that was merging with one at Sylar's feet, and Peter didn't exactly want to go dripping bloody clothes through the rest of his apartment.

Though what that required, was a request that he didn't really want to say out loud.