"Leave?" He echoes the suggestion, in numb disbelief. It catches on the gears of his mind, snags like something's trapped in the wiring. Luther's trying to process it and failing. Because the others left, one-by-one trickling out of this house. But Allison doesn't leave. She's not supposed to be the one to abandon him.

"What do you mean?" he asks, even though he knows exactly what she means. He almost shrugs off that hand on his shoulder, but looks up at her in blinking surprise instead. (He realises, then, that his jaw is aching and not from the earlier brawl; he's clenching it tight enough to grind the teeth, waiting for the next blow from her words.)