Sylar's last kick spun into full impact with the back, partially because he was caught off guard and partially to prove that his impact was severe when he chose it to be. Then he settled into a standing position, turning to face her and dropping his head into a slight tilt. This was why he came to the gym alone; everyone was a critic. He offered her a smile, though, something akin to a smirk, and quirked one eyebrow.

"I'm practicing," he offered. Canting his head into a slightly deeper tilt. The girl was unfamiliar, but reminded him of something between Elle and Claire. He idly wondered if she might have any abilities. Then, realizing his words hadn't actually answered her question, he added, "Trying to stop."

"It's fine," he replied quickly, though with some level of nonchalance. It wasn't that he needed the company, but he was tired of the exercise anyway. Sometimes conversation didn't hurt, particularly when he was meant to be insinuating himself with new people and showing just how good he could be.

The inmate's stance relaxed and he flexed his hands a moment, beginning to unravel the tape on them that helped to soften the blows of the bag. He had been at this for just over an hour now. "Do you come here often?"

A second after he said it, he laughed at himself. Sylar had been perpetually improved in mood since the restoration of his abilities, though he had not seen or spoken to any of his familiar contacts enough for them to realize it. He realized what that sounded like, despite how sincere the question was. "..I just meant, have you been here long, on the Barge? I don't usually stay this late."

Sylar pressed his lips together in thought; only a month. The name was tragically unfamiliar, as was her relation to his warden. Still, he was in just such a mood to entertain himself and anyone would do at this point. Including her. The inmate extended his hand to shake hers gently, but firmly. "Gabriel."

He paused, his lips pulling up into a small smile again. "Why are you restless? Stressed, anxious?

Sylar dropped his arms slowly and stared at her. Then he let out a small laugh, realizing the absurdity of the idea that she could read his mind. Although very few with abilities let on to what they could do here, she didn't strike him as the mind-reading type. But yes, he had meant dull. "I mean it sounds boring. What did you do for yourself, for fun? It all sounds like what you had to do. Not what you wanted."

He took a couple steps toward her, not yet invading her space but cutting the excess distance between them. Unlike her leaning, he was still stiff enough to remain standing with oddly perfect posture; it was a natural state for him. Sylar had the habit of projecting his own life and opinions onto others regardless of situation, something he was often oblivious to. He, himself, would never do such mundane things for fun. Certainly she would not either.

"It's fine," he responded to her latter remarks, after a pause. The killer pursed his lips a second, thinking of the words to use to respond. He didn't like intimidating people he was trying to get on the good side of and telling the truth of his life was often intimidating. Instead, he opted for one very small part of a much larger truth. "I was experimented on, in a Company. Locked in a cage. Drugged, barely fed. For days.. When I finally got the chance, I killed the doctor that had stabbed me with all of those needles, run all of those tests.."

He had to work to keep his voice even at the memory. "I escaped. They hunted me down. One of the men that was keeping me caged, his coworker killed me."

Technically entirely true. Technically.