August 3rd, 2015


75 Godiva Street, Monday morning

Eliot didn't sleep nearly as much as Parker and Hardison did, so he was pretty used to being up before they were, getting coffee ready and sorting through his fridge for what to make for breakfast. He'd've been perfectly happy to stay in bed and just stare at his partners and make sure they were still there, but whatever the aliens had been using to sustain them all over the week hadn't really been much more than minimal, and Eliot was pretty sure he wasn't the only one who'd be waking up today starving.

He may have stuck comms on everyone so he could still hear them the whole time, though.

It was weird being in his kitchen without Val sitting at his feet in her eternally frustrated hope for scraps (eternally frustrated from him, anyway, he was pretty sure she still did it because Hardison and Parker were sneaking her things), but Kathy had texted the night before to let him know that her little sister had been taking care of the puppy, and that Kathy was going to keep her in the dorms for one more night. Considering how much time he and the others had spent yesterday in constant physical contact, Eliot could guess why Kathy wanted to keep a nice, warm, happy puppy around for the night, so he didn't insist. He was used to getting shot at and nearly killed, after all, and what had happened in that sim --

Eliot's hand spasmed around his knife and he dropped in to the cutting board and stepped back, leaning his weight into his hands on the counter and just breathing through it as the image of Kathy silhouetted in the doorway ran through his head. He kept his head down a moment longer once the scene finished playing out in his memory, then straightened up, stretched his fingers, and got back to chopping.

He'd have to watch out for that for a little while.

[ooc: for those in the house and the one stopping by -- and anyone else who might decide to drop in and visit. Note: linked thread contains violence and simulated death.]
resting grump-face

75 Godiva Street, Early Tuesday morning

It was inevitable after what had happened over the last week, even with Parker and Hardison and Val all right there in the bed with him. Last night had been blissfully dreamless, but it was never destined to last.

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Eliot's whole body clenched and he came awake on a ragged inhale, instinctively holding still and quiet until he could recognize his surroundings. He forced his hands to release their grip on the sheets as he recognized his bedroom. He could hear Hardison and Parker breathing beside him. He tried to close his eyes and will himself back to sleep, but the moment they shut all he could see were his bloody hands and his crew on the dusty ground.


He wasn't going to be getting back to sleep any time soon. Time to go for a run.

[ooc: for those in the bed. Dream contents bloody and violent, and NFB, natch.]