There's a part of her that doesn't want to take it -- the arm offered to her. Hovering there in the air. Black jacketed and to the nines. That doesn't want to touch Luther again, not so quickly after rumoring herself. After what felt overemotionally necessary and feels sorely stupid only seconds later. Because it happened. Because she can't stop it from happening.

No. That's a lie. She could. She absolutely has the power to do that.

But same as any hundred times she might have contemplated it, she knows it couldn't be undone. And she doesn't know how much of the past would be unstitched and reknit entirely differently to make that lie a truth that all of Capital "R" reality acknowledges. It might be shattered fragments of a once complete picture, but they were her shattered fragments. The last of everything she has left.

Until suddenly he was here. Still here. Holding his handout.
Literal Super-Hero-Boy-America. And everyone is watching them.
Delighted by the entirety of the last few minutes.

Allison smiles, pretty as the picture she's learning to make of herself no matter her mood or role, but she's still young, and there's something that's so wholly still Rumor in the black glitter of her eyes that doesn't quite match her smile. Game and partner in this charade, but nothing else beyond it. Her hand lands and curls into his elbow, looking up at him dutifully like one would expect.

"Home, maybe." She is quiet enough not to carry as she watches him look at those watching them. "Before the natives think to ask for an encore?"