Allison is half-tempted to roll her eyes at the light teasing at her expense, but dear god, she doesn't even want to invoke the devil by the chance of putting it on her lips. Because there are so very many all too real ways she could get invited to one, or more than one, by those it would be easy to turn down and by at least two people she still really shouldn't turn down asking for anything tonight.
Even as it collides with the thought that Allison viscerally doesn't want that, because she wants to sleep before she murders someone without stopping herself, Luther is asking that second question. And she's, suddenly equally sure, she doesn't want to sleep at all. Ever.
She doesn't want to lose a minute of this impossible thing to closing her eyes. She doesn't want anyone to demand it from her suddenly, and to have to give into it.
"I'm surprised you haven't made it inside." There's a tilt of her head, turning the earlier painful irony of the surprise striking too deep in her chest, into something she can toss right back at him as a confided joke. "Or that they didn't make you pose for pictures under the main sign, since it might as well be named for you."
It's easier throwing it at him, light and trite, amused than it felt like the universe had needed to throw it at her like a brick. "Let's go, then, Space. I wouldn't want to be the next person to keep you from--" With a flourish of her raised free hand, as though the movement of her hand across the empty air in front of them was passing over the title floating there, or the idea inside of it. "--The Future."
There's a lilt on several of those words that leans into the title pieces, too, though it really does little more than making her pleased with herself and entirely amenable to just giving up all her circulating to see him through the room he'll understand and recognize more in one circuit than she will in both.
no subject
Even as it collides with the thought that Allison viscerally doesn't want that, because she wants to sleep before she murders someone without stopping herself, Luther is asking that second question. And she's, suddenly equally sure, she doesn't want to sleep at all. Ever.
She doesn't want to lose a minute of this impossible thing to closing her eyes.
She doesn't want anyone to demand it from her suddenly, and to have to give into it.
"I'm surprised you haven't made it inside." There's a tilt of her head, turning the earlier painful irony of the surprise striking too deep in her chest, into something she can toss right back at him as a confided joke. "Or that they didn't make you pose for pictures under the main sign, since it might as well be named for you."
It's easier throwing it at him, light and trite, amused than it felt like the universe had needed to throw it at her like a brick. "Let's go, then, Space. I wouldn't want to be the next person to keep you from--" With a flourish of her raised free hand, as though the movement of her hand across the empty air in front of them was passing over the title floating there, or the idea inside of it. "--The Future."
There's a lilt on several of those words that leans into the title pieces, too, though it really does little more than making her pleased with herself and entirely amenable to just giving up all her circulating to see him through the room he'll understand and recognize more in one circuit than she will in both.