Unfortunately for them, however, the world has other plans—
There's the faint tap-tap-tap of shoes walking across the hardwood floor towards them, and even somewhere in all that burn-it-down focus where nothing else matters, they are still, at the end of it all, hardwired soldiers. Who can hear the approach of a potential enemy, who have been taught to pay attention to blind spots and always notice when someone's coming from behind. And so, somewhere in that howling whirlwind of his hand on Allison's hip and the fact that he is finally kissing her, Luther suddenly finds himself breaking away without even really wanting to; he exchanges a startled look with her, blue eyes widened in surprise, like a drowning man coming back to the surface.
And old, old, old instinct kicks in, with the habit of twenty years against how many minutes — and he instantly, irrationally springs away from her as if it's Reginald who's walked in, as if they're going to get a slap to the wrist for being caught entangled, despite the fact that there is literally nobody here in this universe who would care. A hand thoughtlessly reaches up to his kiss-bruised lips, where there still isn't a smear of lipstick (he isn't entirely sure how that works; it feels like some kind of magic, maybe her lipstick's enchanted, that could honestly be the case).
And what an absolute waste, because the new arrival isn't anyone that they know, either. It's just a bemused-looking man, glancing at them with a knowing smirk. "Hey. Any idea where the restrooms are?" he asks.
"Um," Luther says, and his brain has completely short-circuited. He knows exactly where the men's restroom is (ten feet down that way, on the right), but words aren't really working right now. He's not even fully connecting the dots as the stranger keeps walking, headed towards that fated invisible spot in the middle of the corridor.
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There's the faint tap-tap-tap of shoes walking across the hardwood floor towards them, and even somewhere in all that burn-it-down focus where nothing else matters, they are still, at the end of it all, hardwired soldiers. Who can hear the approach of a potential enemy, who have been taught to pay attention to blind spots and always notice when someone's coming from behind. And so, somewhere in that howling whirlwind of his hand on Allison's hip and the fact that he is finally kissing her, Luther suddenly finds himself breaking away without even really wanting to; he exchanges a startled look with her, blue eyes widened in surprise, like a drowning man coming back to the surface.
And old, old, old instinct kicks in, with the habit of twenty years against how many minutes — and he instantly, irrationally springs away from her as if it's Reginald who's walked in, as if they're going to get a slap to the wrist for being caught entangled, despite the fact that there is literally nobody here in this universe who would care. A hand thoughtlessly reaches up to his kiss-bruised lips, where there still isn't a smear of lipstick (he isn't entirely sure how that works; it feels like some kind of magic, maybe her lipstick's enchanted, that could honestly be the case).
And what an absolute waste, because the new arrival isn't anyone that they know, either. It's just a bemused-looking man, glancing at them with a knowing smirk. "Hey. Any idea where the restrooms are?" he asks.
"Um," Luther says, and his brain has completely short-circuited. He knows exactly where the men's restroom is (ten feet down that way, on the right), but words aren't really working right now. He's not even fully connecting the dots as the stranger keeps walking, headed towards that fated invisible spot in the middle of the corridor.