Coffee is so small, so innocuous, but he still feels his heart swell in his chest, a warmth suffusing him just at the thought of it. The possibility. They shuffle a little forward again, and he's waiting for this cab to drive off and the next one to pull up, but it lingers instead, engine running patiently.

"Where you headed?" the driver shouts through the window, and Luther looks at the open door in the back, the two people already seated in there, their heads craned to glance out at them.

"Oh no, uh, it's fine, this one's full," he says politely, demurring, trying to shy backwards like a spooked horse.

But the line is stretching behind them, and there still aren't enough taxis to ferry everyone out through the streets. A packed and crowded event, people all starting to disperse at around the same time, and flooding public transit. He's not used to sharing; not like this.