That first word is so small and punctuated Allison thinks maybe just to let it lie there between them. That she could focus on the moon lander, a sizable replica of something she's certain Luther had a tiny version of a million years ago on one of his shelves, with all the little planes and other space models.

She still doesn't care much for space really, more than that it exists (more than that, everything about it only reminds her of him; too many memories of his excitable, thrown up face babbling about whatever new thing he'd found like if he didn't get it out, he might pop). She is still staring at it when he starts talking again, quietly, making her leaning a little in toward him.

"Because we didn't have any." Allison winces just a brief flicker when her words come too fast. Too pointed even for not being an attack. For that fact, she doesn't entirely believe that either. Diego and Vanya's little band, before Vanya was shipped away. Klaus and Ben, before Ben died. Her and Luther, before.

They all came to harsh ends. Nothing grew in that place.
Nothing lived long enough to thrive. No one chose those things.

"It is complicated," Allison stresses the second word more than the third; there's very little about being challenged Allison has ever found offputting. Going back to his point rather than apologizing for her slip. "I do still feel like I'm constantly learning a litany of unwritten rules, in a world made of doors and windows and ceilings and floors you can only see once you bump into them and not before."

And if she happened to rumor her way through most, well, she didn't regret it either.