Sylar listened as Peter retreated, not daring to open his eyes again, sighing once he'd gone upstairs. He wasn't exactly tired, his thoughts tortured by what he'd been forced to do, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to stay conscious much longer. The poison was still in his system, after all, and under the nausea and the feelings of weakness, there was a growing sense of defeat from his body. It wanted to shut down, to rest, and he wasn't sure he had the strength to fight it.