for ltbrownnoser.

[obediences]

lost in time.

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[obediences]

"I— Oh." A sharp stuttered exhale from Luther as he tries to wrap his mind around it, unable to conceive of someone declaring that so easily, so quickly. In the back of his head, there's the lurking Why? and You hardly know me, and then a faint self-consciousness that burns the edges of his ears. "Uh. I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

A moment later, floundering, he tries to bridge that gap a little, explain himself better: "Teamwork is... one of the most important things to me. It's what I know best. The only thing I've known. What matters most."

Trying to clarify that it doesn't mean anything less. Placing your life unthinkingly in someone else's hands— that matters. In the Academy, that had been everything.

When she describes the Retcon tablets, though, Luther finally levers himself up slightly, his elbow propped against the mattress to look up. Not shocked, precisely — he understands exactly why Sarah might have to do that sort of thing, preserving continuity, whatever, Number Five had been all about it — but he's still bemused.

"Your job is to hop around through time, roofieing civilians?"

[ltbrownnoser]

That's interesting to Sarah, actually; that he feels teamwork is the most important thing because it's all he knows. Her eyebrows lift slightly with curiosity but she doesn't prod that particular point. Hasn't he ever caught feelings for someone, like so many of her fellow humans are so wont to do? Was he being literal rather than hyperbolic when he'd said he hadn't had any downtime for anything at all outside the Academy to which he's so attached?

"Teamwork comes in a lot of different forms, I think," she says. It isn't a counterpoint nor is it entirely an agreement with him; just some food for thought. "A couple or thruple or whatever is a form of teamwork just as much as a family can be a team in some situations or strangers can team up in extreme situations. But I get it, I think," she says.

Seeing the movement of his body, lifting himself up to look at her, whether unwitting or intentionally giving her a better view of the expanse of his chest, Sarah catches her bottom lip between her teeth again. It slips back out again to make room for an expression that's a little more illustrative of the fact that she feels mildly — albeit benignly — patronized.

"No," she says, drawing the word out slowly before taking in a deep breath and huffing it out again. "My job is to hop through time retrieving objects out of their proper place in the timeline. ...I only roofie civilians when I'm late and I fuck it up, which is why I still have tabs left in my bag," she explains, wrinkling her nose at him and picking up one of her shoes to toss vaguely in his direction. She doesn't hit him and makes no real attempt to do so, so much as give a playful show of her frustration at his clearly intentional misunderstanding of her job description. "Smart ass."

[obediences]

This time, the laugh when it comes is an actual audible laugh, a chuckle as the shoe misses (it goes wide, bounces somewhere off a chest of drawers on the other side of the room) and Luther lets himself sink back down to the mattress.

That part was oddly, comfortingly familiar too. Allison had always punched him in the shoulder whenever he'd been too cheesy or too intractable or gotten on her nerves; she was usually the only one who dared to push the envelope like that, knowing it wouldn't hurt him. She'd thrown her notepad at him in the bowling alley, too.

(Another ache in his chest, remembering. A cavernous emptiness, one that he takes a deep breath and bricks up and pushes past. They're gone and there's nothing he can actually do about that for a while.)

"At least you're good at your job," Luther says, and it isn't a direct apology for the patronising blip (which is far too common with him), but— it's almost one. He hasn't been good at his job for a while.

"And it sounds better than the alternative, anyway. Five's job was to go through the timeline, locate disruptive presences, and kill them."

[ltbrownnoser]

Seeing him laugh, Sarah feigns scandalized shock. "Oh my God, he can laugh, look at that, ladies and gentlemen!" she cries out dramatically, pushing herself upright and throwing her arms up in a victory V. "Shit, do I get a prize? Was I the first person to make it happen in a while? I bet I was," she teases playfully as she lays back down again, grinning with self-satisfaction.

"Lucky son of a bitch," she mutters. "Maybe that Commission really does take up where the Agency left off. That's the branch I wanted into, but evidently I didn't suck the right dick or something and I got stuck with artifact recon," she complains. Is she joking about the sexual favour? Maybe. Probably not, but her casual tone might suggest she's being hyperbolic.

"All the best agents got assigned to Aberration Neutralization. My brother worked in that department once upon a time," she says. "He was always better at everything than I was, so I dunno why it ever surprised me that he made it and I didn't. Alas, here we are." The tone of her voice there is very c'est la vie. She's accepted it for what it is.

[obediences]

"I'll remind you that I've been on my own for a few weeks. So, yeah, you are."

Aaaand there he goes, right on back to answering rhetorical questions and being far too serious for his own good— except that there's actually still a subtle thread of humour humming beneath it now, a touch of ironic understatement. Compared to Klaus' freewheeling clownery, Luther's always forced himself into being serious as a heart attack, joking around being inappropriate for the team leader... and thus the habit stuck, to keep it subtle. He does have a sense of humour, but it comes out so fleetingly, so rarely, that it matters all the more when it does.

"Aberration Neutralization, huh," he says, considering. Another sign that she would've fit into Luther's group pretty well: the necessity of killing people, when you have to. Where the greater mission calls for it. Accepting that cold calculus for the greater good.

"Why did you want the other branch? Just because it's more exciting?"

[ltbrownnoser]

"Ha ha," Sarah replies flatly, rolling her eyes but smiling in spite of herself.

She stretches again and hums softly. "Yeah...well, and more prestigious. Like I said, only the best agents get to work in that department."

A yawn escapes her and she makes little effort to hide it from him. "Christ, it's not even that dark out, yet. That's what I get for going to work on a whole four hours of sleep, yeah?" she jokes. Her amusement slips away slowly as she turns on her side again to look at him. "All right, Luther, where you are? I'm getting tired laying here in this heat. If I doze off, you're not going to fuck off on me, are you?"

Her tone is casual, but she's mildly concerned about it. He doesn't owe her anything, after all, but even with him being a stranger, she likes to think she's a good judge of character and she feels like he's not a direct threat to her. If he stays, she'll feel safer. Of course, she's not going to tell Luther that, but all the same. It's the truth.

[obediences]

He's settled back on the mattress now, arms crossed over the broad expanse of his chest, the outline of him like a line of cliffs in the darkening room.

"I'm not going anywhere," Luther says,

and there is something so unthinking and simple and matter-of-fact about that sentence, as if he's surprised by Sarah's very suggestion, and never would've considered it himself. Because he wouldn't have. He's predictable as the tides, he sits where he's told to sit, and if he's backing someone up— He's not leaving them. Particularly if they're his only lifeline to human contact, to not being alone, to keeping that loneliness at bay.

A beat and then, realising how heavily significant that might have sounded, he adds to make it a little looser, wry: "Besides, not like there's much of anywhere to go."

[ltbrownnoser]

He waits a few seconds too long to lighten the sentiment and by the time he does, Sarah's already feeling reassured by the first comment. Solid, unmoving; I'm not going anywhere means I've got your back and I won't let anything hurt you. Not because Luther said it, but because Jacob used to and, for a long time, she believed him when he said the more significant things by hiding them in something vaguer; something more like I'm not going anywhere.

"Okay, good. I'll be really disappointed if I wake up in an empty room. I hope you know that," she tells him through another yawn as she rolls onto her back again.

Closing her eyes, Sarah tries to settle herself into a comfortable position on the rickety children's sized bed. "Good night, handsome. I'll see you in the morning for another round of What the Fuck Do We Do to Kill Twelve Hours," she says quietly, a weak smile playing at her lips, even though he can't see it.