People were getting out from their cars around them, but Luther could only spare a passing glance. The building was gone, leaving only smoke and the heat from it's destruction and them. He could barely breathe the air was so thick and his hand remained over his mouth and nose - his left hand still clutched in Joanie's.
It had been the closest thing that Luther had felt was home in years. The last twelve had been spent chasing Valjean and before that, he'd been in LA. What was home anymore? He tore his eyes away from the building, looking to the limo - and then to the parking garage nearby, where his SUV should have been. That was right - that was home. Travelling and working for the law...
...which he didn't even believe in anymore.
Luther shut his eyes against the ash in the wind, attempting to calm down. Everything he owned was out of there. His car should be fine. No one had been in the building when it collapsed. Nothing had truly been hurt. Just the building which had tormented them for so long.