Luther believes he might be able to make a clean getaway, and then there's a guy standing and watching him.

"What," he says, intending it to be a sharp bark of an interrogation, but he can hear how awkward and worried he sounds, only the thinnest veneer of the intended sharpness atop the word. At least in Dallas, people seemed to mind their business more than here.

Either that or he had been so wrapped up in depression he hadn't noticed it.

Just in case he's missing something, he turns to look behind him, checking if he's left any of those kids with permanent damage.