Sylar sighs, but it's not because he doesn't believe the man. He sits down, cross-legged, next to him and sets his book to the side.

"The town's messing with you. Or me. Or both of us." He shrugs, but the expression on his face gives away that he's bothered by it, too. "It happens. It might be a clue to something or it might be nothing. Did it have an eye symbol anywhere in the picture?"