"You know you're talking about Ben more than what's going on with you, right?" Luther says, and it's that bone-dry patience and stating the obvious because, well, calling a spade a spade is the only way he gets through anything these days. The sword cutting through the Gordian knot of the Hargreeves and all their infinite tangled thread of complications and trauma and secrets and evasion.

But he's still wearily patient. The line between intervention and interrogation has turned out to be surprisingly narrow, and he doesn't want it to turn into the latter.

"Have you been practicing your new abilities at all, or just drowning them out?" It's the question of the day, the month, Klaus' entire life, and Luther's finally asking it himself. That team leader voice sliding back into place. "Because I'll practice them with you. Whatever it takes. To make this better and get it under control. And it won't be like it was, with him."

No question which him Luther means. That specter haunting all of them, still casting that long shadow.