He's too painfully aware of what he just did, his body practically buzzing all over with pins and needles at it, at having done it, of offering touch (even one so small and simple as that), that Luther is practically relieved when a doctor walks through that doorway, scans the room, and then heads over towards the group of Hargreeves.

And then, just as suddenly, he is relieved, because at least this means the wait is over, they're out of that interminable limbo and leaping up out of their chairs. For an update. For information. On how Klaus is doing. On whether they can see him yet.

And at least it's something.