"I don't know if I want to tell you," Luther confesses, after a bit of a blank moment, one where nothing will move from brain to mouth. "I mean. I do want to tell you. I'm pretty sure I'm smashing shit about how I want to say something, but--"

He turns over an old stove so he can drop heavily onto the back.

"Klaus," he says, and he sounds different to his own ears, younger and scared and angry. "It's one of those things that's going to fuck some stuff up. Uh, from Hotel Oblivion. I'm pretty sure it's going to fuck some things up, and if it doesn't, then somehow that's even worse."