He will never complain about the self-depreciation ever again, not even in jest. He will hug it and love it and cherish it like a cherishable thing. The pride without the adorable frostings of embarrassment and gratitude and, well, Gabrielness is like breaking some raw eggs into a bowl and expecting it to be a cake.

The excuse generator has apparently come into work with a hangover. It will be disciplined later. For now, Sylar, say hi to Stevie being a big brave boy.

"I'd -- rather you didn't."

ARE YOU GOING TO KILL HIM NOW.