Allison finds herself surprised at her sudden envy of the simplicity of this moment. Even as fraught as it is, Vanya doesn't have to wait to see, or speak with, or hug Ben. She wonders absently if anyone did. It's stupid, but it's still there, too. The way that first meeting with him had been so different than this, or Luther's, or Diego's. She doesn't know about the others.

And she knows it doesn't matter. She's gotten to spend more time with him since.

She ends up looking to a side, seeing Vanya's jacket. The dark red of the blood on her right shoulder side. That and the white suit, in general, a constant reminder that Vanya hasn't come from earlier like she's saying. That, like her visit before now, she may not even know what happened after she passed out at all. Still by the couch, and not about to interrupt and point it out, Allison picked up the crumpled, sat on, jacket.

Without paying too much focus to it, she folded it once, in half, and hung it over the arm of the couch. Freeing up Vanya's spot, and for the moment letting her have as much of a few seconds of privacy as she could with other people still in the room. They all felt it. Every time. They'd managed to hold it together after Five ran away, but Ben's death had gutted the Academy in a way they never could come back from.