The look she gets back is pure Spaceboy attitude at his cockiest and most playful, the raised hitch of his eyebrows, shoulders sloped nonchalantly. A man with a secret. (Normally she's the one carrying around all of hers.)

"Of course," Luther says, as if the answer is duh, as if it isn't actually a startling surprise that he's even able to follow her show. Only thirty minutes of recreation per week isn't even enough to watch the full forty-five of an episode.

(Some things have actually changed, at home. With less students to train, the schedule's fallen apart and left him shiftless, his itinerary less scrupulously monitored by the Monocle. As a result, Luther is often hopelessly bored. In contrast to those carefully-metered-out half-hours before, nowadays there just aren't that many distractions to fill up the time.)

"Didn't I say I was your biggest fan?"

That letter, buried in her stack at home, that signoff that had accidentally bruised her heart in his signing of it.