[Luther is—and perhaps will always be—caught between two versions of himself. One version is Number One. He's the man who never properly grew up. His emotional state is best described by that: sensitive, curious, uncertain. A little fragile at the best of times. Though his conversation with Jimmy has calmed his frayed nerves a bit, he's still feeling that same frustrating uncertainty of being ripped away from his family and his identity.
And then there's the Number One of it all. Good posture. Awareness of expectations. Trying to ensure that he meets Jimmy's gaze, even when he knows precisely how he feels.
When his chest glows, all he can think of is how Vanya tried to suck the life out of him. That it happened from that spot. Is this a side effect of that?—No, doesn't make sense. But there's a hint of fear, of uncertainty, and guilt in being faced with that particular reminder.]
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And then there's the Number One of it all. Good posture. Awareness of expectations. Trying to ensure that he meets Jimmy's gaze, even when he knows precisely how he feels.
When his chest glows, all he can think of is how Vanya tried to suck the life out of him. That it happened from that spot. Is this a side effect of that?—No, doesn't make sense. But there's a hint of fear, of uncertainty, and guilt in being faced with that particular reminder.]