Sylvie's anger comforts him, feeds a dark little part of him that feels weirdly resentful of his family's reactions before they've even happened. It's good, it feels good to imagine Sylvie raining down vengeance on his behalf.

Maybe, he finds himself considering, that's part of the attraction. However else holding that level of anger has shaped Sylvie, she fights against the injustice done to her. He's fought giving into it, against being turned into Dad's fucking lackey, his literal monkey, and for what--

Luther lets out a ragged breath and leans forward, forearms on knees like he might need to keep his head low. A tremor runs through him at Sylvie's words, and he nods. "You were right. It was better to say it."