Luther's frown deepens as he looks at Five. Why are you being so—
But to his credit (and thanks to years of additional experience), Luther's able to bite back those words before he blurts them out. Five is smart; there's usually a reason behind what he's doing, even if he doesn't share that rationale with the rest of them.
Why isn't he acknowleding the Icarus or Vanya or what they're working on?
Then, the realisation comes. Allison. It's Allison. She really isn't herself. And it's extra-obvious a moment later, when she answers the question. A pained expression crosses Luther's face. Five is Five is Five, as he was during the week before the end of the world, a world-weary soul trapped in that too-small body (and that had taken some getting some accustomed to), but Allison's cut right out of their childhood. A blast from the past, an artefact ripped out of that tapestry and dropped here, where she doesn't belong.
"Oh," he says, and clears his throat. Unsure how to explain this whole bizarre situation. That no matter what he looks like, he's actually thirty years old. That he's not the brilliant, uncomplicated Spaceboy either of them knew.
Instead, he just shakes his head. "The timeline's messed up, Allison," he says, not realising — forgetting — that she doesn't answer to that yet. "I can explain later. Let's get back to the house. Five— I'm glad you're here, especially since you're used to this sort of thing. That... uh, thing we're finishing, it's on pause as long as we're here. Time won't pass while we're here. So the most pressing is figuring out what happened to our bodies."
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But to his credit (and thanks to years of additional experience), Luther's able to bite back those words before he blurts them out. Five is smart; there's usually a reason behind what he's doing, even if he doesn't share that rationale with the rest of them.
Why isn't he acknowleding the Icarus or Vanya or what they're working on?
Then, the realisation comes. Allison. It's Allison. She really isn't herself. And it's extra-obvious a moment later, when she answers the question. A pained expression crosses Luther's face. Five is Five is Five, as he was during the week before the end of the world, a world-weary soul trapped in that too-small body (and that had taken some getting some accustomed to), but Allison's cut right out of their childhood. A blast from the past, an artefact ripped out of that tapestry and dropped here, where she doesn't belong.
"Oh," he says, and clears his throat. Unsure how to explain this whole bizarre situation. That no matter what he looks like, he's actually thirty years old. That he's not the brilliant, uncomplicated Spaceboy either of them knew.
Instead, he just shakes his head. "The timeline's messed up, Allison," he says, not realising — forgetting — that she doesn't answer to that yet. "I can explain later. Let's get back to the house. Five— I'm glad you're here, especially since you're used to this sort of thing. That... uh, thing we're finishing, it's on pause as long as we're here. Time won't pass while we're here. So the most pressing is figuring out what happened to our bodies."
He sounds a little bit like a leader, at least.