They're stepping outside into the night air: brisker than during the daytime, but still warm and lovely even in the autumn with encroaching winter, so much warmer than it would've been back east. He wouldn't be surprised if there's already snow dusting the ground once he returns.
They're not the only people starting to leave the gala in trickles and streams, either; there's a line at the taxi stand, which they have to obediently shuffle into. Neither of them have cars of their own, nor personal drivers. (She will in a few years' time, and he would back home, but — I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.)
So they join the queue, and Luther resists the urge to shove his hands in his pockets. The air feels fresh and freeing in his lungs, and he finds himself looking around the street and the palm trees as if he's never seen them before, drinking them in with clear eyes and a second perspective. He wonders what neighbourhood Allison lives in. Wonders what she might have in mind for tonight, now that they've ducked their other responsibilities.
"You got any recommendations to check out in the middle of the night?" Luther asks, and there's something of a laugh buried under those words. A little incredulous, a little delighted, disbelieving that they actually get to do this. Step outside the lines. Go do whatever the hell they want. He can't stop looking at her, sneaking glances to the side they shuffle forward in the line, waiting their turn. (They don't notice yet that there are too many people, and too few taxis.)
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They're not the only people starting to leave the gala in trickles and streams, either; there's a line at the taxi stand, which they have to obediently shuffle into. Neither of them have cars of their own, nor personal drivers. (She will in a few years' time, and he would back home, but — I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.)
So they join the queue, and Luther resists the urge to shove his hands in his pockets. The air feels fresh and freeing in his lungs, and he finds himself looking around the street and the palm trees as if he's never seen them before, drinking them in with clear eyes and a second perspective. He wonders what neighbourhood Allison lives in. Wonders what she might have in mind for tonight, now that they've ducked their other responsibilities.
"You got any recommendations to check out in the middle of the night?" Luther asks, and there's something of a laugh buried under those words. A little incredulous, a little delighted, disbelieving that they actually get to do this. Step outside the lines. Go do whatever the hell they want. He can't stop looking at her, sneaking glances to the side they shuffle forward in the line, waiting their turn. (They don't notice yet that there are too many people, and too few taxis.)