It's a sudden lightening of the load, like a deep and constant pressure on his chest has abruptly lessened, leaving him more able to breathe. Probably pretty freed up. "No glamorous afterparties to go to?" he asks, gently, perhaps with a touch of wistfulness, but there's still that small smile curling at the edge of his mouth. Suddenly they have the evening, the whole damn evening, and it's so much more than they've ever had before— even after spending close to two decades under the same roof, they'd never had free time like this, free to choose and do what they like with it—

And now that they have that freedom, Luther realises he doesn't know what to do with it. He clears his throat, glances over her to the large doorway leading to the exhibit.

"You wanna give me the tour?" he asks. Despite the fact that he has the blueprints memorised, the mental map of the museum sitting in his skull like an illuminated diorama. It's not the same. It's not the same as being able to stroll, leisurely, through these semi-darkened hallways (they're murky for this premiere, intimate, not the full blazing light once this place opens for real), with Allison's arm looped through his, and her pointing out whatever things they'd pointed out for her on her private walkthrough.

The curator he was speaking to earlier could probably give him a more knowledgeable, in-depth rundown of the place;

but that isn't, however, who he really wants to hear from right about now.