Allison isn't that kind to herself. Even if it reminds her of him trying to say that initially, and having to cut him off, being genuinely unable even to sit there and let him say the words once, to give her the grace of an absolution she had no right to (and maybe worse, in that second, didn't even care to want). But at least Luther moves it to all of them and then that question.

There's a snort for the question. "I decked someone?"

There's a wry twist to that, like of all people, of course,
Allison Hargreeves would come down swinging.

"Actually, I ended up in Statlder's first, getting my first introduction to their "White's Only" sign," and is that easier or harder in the dark. Is it weird to suddenly be reminded 'This Is Wrong,' just them laying like this, not even touching, but in the privacy of his bedroom, would be considered an offense to God and Creation in the eyes of the world they just left. Not because of her husband, or their not being married.

Simply, because of her. The color of her skin.

Even knowing it's not true, none of the bigotry of the time,
she can't stop the tension that freezes her muscles.

"Then, I decked someone on the street for calling me honey, or baby, or darling, or whatever it was." She can't remember what the words were, only the height of her panic. With no ability to ask for help. None of her siblings anywhere. The sheer snap of denial in the face of his voice. The worse fear of realizing, as her punch connected with his face, that her body was nowhere near capable of a good fight yet.

"Got into a chase across the city to South Dallas, nearly bit it hard on a gravel driveway, between those heels and it still being mostly impossible to breathe still, and happened to miraculously run into the right place at the right time, where some hairdressers got in the way, and then, pretty much took me in."

Vernetta. She owed Vernetta so much.

And she'd never even said goodbye. Or thank you.