Kilgrave really wished he had something sharp. A pen. A knife would be ideal, even a butter knife. Anything to stab open the bag of safe air that Mohinder was breathing. This was not tolerable. And now the man was giving him pity? Sure, he'd been seeking it, but that was before he heard there was going to spinal taps.

But there wasn't anything he could do, and that realization led to the reminder that Jack said he could pump things into the air to take him out. He had to try and be careful here. Take the sympathy. Work with it.

His eyes slid over to look at Mohinder next to him as he continued to lean his head in his hands. "It's been this way since I was ten," he told Mohinder, his voice actually quiet now. "Years of testing before that. I don't really know anything else. It's always been control or be controlled, you know?"

Gabriel's facial expression didn't change from its serious, quiet watchfulness. However, every item in the observation room began to vibrate, clattering against everything else. Gabriel closed his eyes and let out a forceful breath, and the clattering stopped.

"Do you really need the spinal fluid?" Kilgrave asked, sounding fragile and small. "Please tell me you don't."