Claire liked to think that she was a fairly confident girl. She knew that she had her strengths, and had plenty of backbone to spare— she wasn't afraid of standing up to those in higher positions than herself if there was a good cause, and definitely had never been afraid to champion the needs of those who could do with just a little bit of protecting. As far as high school kids went, what she'd gone through lately was more than enough to shoot her above her peers in some ways (but behind in others). But being that type of confident also meant knowing full well what sorts of weaknesses she had as well. Being realistic.

"I'm... not a superhero, Coraline," she breathed with a shake of her head, not forlorn or timid, just resigned. "A superhero saves people. A superhero isn't the one always getting saved. I'm just a cheerleader, a cheerleader named Claire."

But when Coraline looked back, Claire followed suit, eyes widening at the shadows stretching across the tile and laughter pealing, echoing down the hall. She'd never heard that laughter before, and it jarred against her nerves like the strings of a tired violin. "I don't know," Claire muttered as they continued to hurry along. "I don't know what that is, or— I've never heard a laugh like that before, either. Sylar doesn't laugh. Not like that."