He's still watching the spot where Five vanished — using the teleportation power that had been Luther's in the City, so it's almost become familiar. It's a fleeting glimpse, there-and-gone, almost leaving you wondering if you'd imagined the whole damn thing. He'd have wanted his brother to stay longer, glad to have him back, but it's like trying to hold onto slippery water in your hands or a cat weaselling out of your arms. Five will be back at his own pace, when he's good and ready.

Luther sighs (still sounding so much older and more tired), and turns back to his other problem. Even then, a fond smile settles over the boy's mouth even as she cuts into him, her dutiful demeanour obliterated as soon as they're alone and she can safely talk back. It's a sharp tartness that the older Allison doesn't often use anymore; only sometimes. And it's her voice. That voice. All of it suddenly heaves him tumbling back into old history and it's jarring, looking at her, to think that they aren't actually there in the past after all.

At least Five had come through the Porter, been given the introductory schpiel by the government and the informational packet. Allison (no— not Allison, it's Number Three, she didn't even recognise her name when he'd said it) doesn't even seem to have the benefit of that.

Luther balances his words, eventually settles on: "This isn't home. We've been transported to a different universe, kind of like how Five jumps between time and space. We're in a city called Nonah, in North Carolina. We— you and I have a house here. None of the others are here besides Five now."

As crisp and to-the-point as if he's relaying the mission parameters.