If they'd had any other kind of upbringing, he would've had a model for something supportive to say in instances like this. Something about dusting yourself off and just trying again, or the fact that nobody was perfect right out of the gate and at the first attempt. Something about practice is just failure plus repetition.
But, no. Instead they had impossible expectations and back-breaking perfectionism from The Monocle. It was that's not good enough. Get yourself back in the saddle by any means necessary. It was cobble yourself back together no matter how much it hurts, and I'm not interested in excuses.
Luther can't apply that callousness to Allison, though, and so he sits there for a while, picking through all those warring instincts. Nature and nurture. The lessons they'd been taught. The ones he's been trying to unravel and unlearn, after thinking himself such a horrendous failure too.
(It's easier to be harder on yourself than on the people you love.)
"Better late than never," he finally says. His voice soft against her temple, her hair. "We don't always get it perfect the first time. Pretty sure the last few years taught us all that."
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But, no. Instead they had impossible expectations and back-breaking perfectionism from The Monocle. It was that's not good enough. Get yourself back in the saddle by any means necessary. It was cobble yourself back together no matter how much it hurts, and I'm not interested in excuses.
Luther can't apply that callousness to Allison, though, and so he sits there for a while, picking through all those warring instincts. Nature and nurture. The lessons they'd been taught. The ones he's been trying to unravel and unlearn, after thinking himself such a horrendous failure too.
(It's easier to be harder on yourself than on the people you love.)
"Better late than never," he finally says. His voice soft against her temple, her hair. "We don't always get it perfect the first time. Pretty sure the last few years taught us all that."