He feels that little whiplash of discomfort like a small branch ricocheting back, scraping his skin, then gone. He blinks. But it's true, about the lack of judgment: Luther just placidly files the information away in the mental rolodex he keeps for the rest of the Hargreeves (large, and outsized compared to the little notes and memories he keeps on everyone else he knows). The perpetual preoccupation he keeps for the things he feels like he has to know about Diego's capabilities and vulnerabilities, even if they've only been in combat together once here.

He still has to know.

"Has it gotten any quieter? Keeping it at bay in public, I mean. When you're around a lot of people. Does it feel like you're getting better at suppressing it with practice yet, or is it staying the same?"

The similarities between Diego's power and Klaus' hasn't gone unnoticed, either. The fact that maybe chemicals could help drown out this overwhelming new sixth sense — but it's not a route neither One nor Two want to go down. They've already seen where it leads.