It's somehow oddly comforting to hear that affirmation and that anger from her, even as it's dripping rage at what she'd had to go through. Live through. Powerless in every way, compared to the power and privilege she'd once wielded as a Hargreeves and as the Rumor.

But the anger is a reassuringly familiar touchstone, and serves as a small echoing reminder that this is still Allison. She's still here. Despite the way she contorted herself into housewifely life in the wrong era, she hasn't changed beyond recognition; she's still that furious violent spitfire that he knew, grew up with. (Fell in love with.)

Not changed. Just been dormant, maybe.

"I snapped a guy's limbs for pulling a knife behind my back in the ring," Luther says after another pause. Head tilting in the darkness to look back at her, having felt the shift that meant she was looking at him. He doesn't have the same temper as any of the others, but there's still a ruthless, zero tolerance for bullshit that had been driven into all the Hargreeves. If you come at them trying to hurt them, they'll instinctively fight back.

(Even Allison had fought back, picked fights she shouldn't have. Even when the rest of the 1960s world would've told her she shouldn't have.)

"So... I get it."

It's not you're right or you're wrong.
But it's me, too.