[ luke didn't have many Stand and Deliver moments in his academic career. mostly he made good grades and kept his head down, wasn't a problem student and never really needed a talking to. ian could've been the real world Edward James Olmos teacher with how well he gets it. they've often operated more as 'bros' than mentor/student, but the second is the soft, gooey core of their relationship. hearing you're better than this from ian demands a pause, hits at luke's core.

turning eyes back to cole's shivering figure in the chair, luke forces himself to really look. take in the damage, and know that it was his choice to put it on this human being. furious as he may be, desperate to maintain order and ensure no one else thinks they can pull this in their camp, that's still a person in that chair. ]

Fuck.

[ he bites out in a hiss, torn between strategy and humanity. say he makes this call, let's cole walk back into camp, and it happens again? say it's something they need in an emergency and realize too late some asshole used it for a buzz or sold it? but the longer he stares at cole, the more certain luke is that he'll be seeing this image over and over in his nightmares. the line's already crossed. ]

You sound more sure of that than I am.

[ but if any adult currently left alive could claim to know who luke is, or was, before all of this, ian would be it. swallowing thickly, now he can't take his eyes off the prisoner, like burning it into his retinas, branding a lesson learned and what the line we don't cross looks like. ]

Fine. But he leaves camp tonight. Maybe I'm not a torturer, but I'm sure as shit not Mother Teresa.

[ forgiveness has never been a virtue in luke's book, and he can hold a bitch of a grudge when the motivation strikes. this choice won't make him any more popular with the team cole faction of camp, but that'll be dealt with another time. sooner than luke thinks, but such is apocalyptic life. ]