Ok, so Eden is really gettin' on my nerves. And for a lizard, that's sayin' a lot.
First, she manhandles me around the ol' man's apartment. Then she steals my precious jump drive, right outta my crib. Hey, Eden! You don't see me waltzin' into your grimy little antique shop and jackin' some War and Peace first edition, do ya?! I didn't Think so. What's wrong with this tramp?
And while we're askin' questions, why doesn't Mohinder the Human get off his tuckus and find us a new place to philosophize?! Doesn't he know that both Sylar and the G-men are onto him? That dunce doesn't even change the locks! What a schmuck.
I'm sorry. I just had to get that off my chest, little and green as it is. Well, I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Mohinder The Lizard. You see my picture over there. Yep, that's me. A bonified New Yorker. A real swell photo, if I don't say so myself. I've been crashin' with Papa Suresh for awhile, ever since he picked me up from a puddle down off Canal Street by the really nice fake purse shop. You know, the one with the gold, and the sparkles, and the warm gutta. But I digress.
Life has been pretty good, but kinda strange. Suresh always kept goin' on about his grandiose "theeeories" and his "heeeroes." Big deeeal. Humans with special powers. Whatevs. Give a human a stick, and he wants a tree. Special abilities is just a new way to muck up life around the city, I say.
And I'll be sayin' a lot around here. Because the editor cuts my lines right outta the show. Freakin' editors. "Give us more emotion, Mohinder. Turn to the left, Mohinder. Raise your green hackles, Mohinder." I happily oblige, and then don't get one bit of airtime. A cryin' shame.