obediences | for ltbrownnoser.

"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?"

"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.

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."

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.

for ltbrownnoser.

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