Here we go, terms and conditions. His mouth draws back with a twitch, as if he's trying his hardest to hear Luther out and keep whatever retort he's considering at bay. After all, a compromise is, by all odds, the best scenario Five can expect. That Number One isn't trying to impress his authority upon him right then and there is, well, commendable.

Not that he's used to giving out accolades.

He doesn't bother to jot any of that down, doesn't need to. Writing reports, and really that's how he sees this, is ingrained in his blood by now. And sure, the Handler might've been prettier, but there's something to be said for authority that isn't holding a gun at you either.

"Keep an eye on your messages," he says. That's it. You give me trust and I'll give back. Reginald didn't trust in him and look how that turned out; stubborn and headstrong and not only out the door, out of time.

Five turns to take a parting glance at Number Three. It's a shame, and he almost hates to leave it at that, but. If any of them have a chance at making this awkward situation work, it's obviously Luther. "Be seeing you again soon," he says to her, raising up one hand in a wry salute. Au revoir, for now.

They don't get the satisfaction of watching him depart. No, it's as sudden and abrupt as ever. A blink and space bends to Five's will, leaving nothing but empty air where he was standing. No hint of his boyish frame in the crowds of passersby, no wave goodbye in the back of a taxi.

Just a promise left on the wind that he'll return again soon.