That answer speaks to the desperate opportunism of a new mother, at wit's end and just grabbing for whatever'll work, whatever'll come up on the radio and will help. Whatever works.
He tries to imagine it. Allison frazzled and sleep-deprived and inelegant, pacing in circles around the kitchen and trying to get Claire to sleep. The parts that the magazines and cameras weren't privy to, and that therefore meant Luther wasn't privy to it. All the little domestic pieces and slices of normalcy that hadn't been a part of their lives in the Hargreeves manor.
(That he, maybe, could've had. And had chosen not to.)
He swallows, his throat working.
"How about any favourite TV shows?" he asks. "When she got old enough."
Always still so delicately, carefully-phrased. Not did she have any favourites. Not the past tense. Because they're going to get back there for her. They have to choose to believe that.
no subject
He tries to imagine it. Allison frazzled and sleep-deprived and inelegant, pacing in circles around the kitchen and trying to get Claire to sleep. The parts that the magazines and cameras weren't privy to, and that therefore meant Luther wasn't privy to it. All the little domestic pieces and slices of normalcy that hadn't been a part of their lives in the Hargreeves manor.
(That he, maybe, could've had. And had chosen not to.)
He swallows, his throat working.
"How about any favourite TV shows?" he asks. "When she got old enough."
Always still so delicately, carefully-phrased. Not did she have any favourites. Not the past tense. Because they're going to get back there for her. They have to choose to believe that.