Like so much of the time since she bustled up and absconded with Luther as her fake-date, this second feels pulled straight out of the past. Writing a message and signing her name. Handing it off to Luther and paying maybe a little too much attention to the way his fingers are still long and slender. Against the notebook. Around the pen. Like somehow, it should be different.

He should be more different.

There aren't two more people to pass it through next to them.

It wouldn't even normally be her because this isn't her normal anymore.

Which leaves Allison considering Luther and his newest Number One Fan, at odds with the mixed-up emotion it dredges into her. Old familiarity, like a strange creaking floorboard of an ache. A slightly colder, more familiar, distance. Or, maybe, more like absence. She'd left, and it seemed like so very little about him had changed, while it felt like almost everything about her and her life had since that day.