75 Godiva Street, Saturday

[vdistinctive]

Eliot's phone had stopped ringing. That was awesome. On the other hand he felt like he'd gotten thrown around by a carnival ride -- again -- and there seemed to be a weight sitting right on his chest.

Val lapped at his chin. The weight on his chest was his small-for-her-breed-but-now-full-grown puppy.

Alrighty then.

[ooc: expecting one, but also open]

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[vdistinctive]

Eliot had taken down trained soldiers in worse condition -- but it wouldn't do any of them any good, so, no, he wasn't actually going to fight Hardison on it.

Especially not if he kept brushing his hair out of his face like that.

Eliot leaned into the touch, relaxing by degrees. "Yeah. 'Kay."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"You hungry?" Hardison asked, keeping his voice gentle. "Anythin' else you need while I'm up? I'm serious, Eliot. If you need it, I can figure out how to get it for you."

It might involve a few emergency calls to the diner, but he'd get it!

[vdistinctive]

"What you're doin' now is good," Eliot mumbled, leaning a little more into the touch. "Recovery really is mostly 'bout relaxin'."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

Right. Which Eliot was generally great at, really.

"You know," he said, moving his fingers over to rub at Eliot's temples, "I could hook up my laptop over here. Play Rudy for you if you want."

Which Hardison would hate, but he'd suffer through for love.

[vdistinctive]

"And hear you rantin' about it for the next two months?" Eliot snorted, then coughed. "Don' need entertainin', s'okay.

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"You ain't about to get all antsy an' grumpy cause you have to rest an' relax, insteada jumpin' up to do a hundred different things?" Hardison asked. He sounded skeptical about that, but only because he was incredibly skeptical about it.

[vdistinctive]

"Not 'til I start feelin' better," Eliot admitted. "Gimme a couple days, and I'll start scalin' the walls."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"An' once we get that far, I'mma park you in front of Rudy an' every other sad-underdog-plays-sports movies and leave you there," Hardison grumbled. "An' if I catch you tryna make a break for it, I'mma change that to reality cookin' shows instead as punishment."

Though Eliot would probably entertain himself yelling at the chefs for their innumerable screwups.

[vdistinctive]

It was a guilty pleasure.

"Long as you don't start threatenin' to cook for me."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"That's why you own a diner, man," Hardison said, leaning back a little and trying not to breathe the same air as Eliot. "Why should I cook when we can just order takeout we ain't even got to pay for." He paused a moment. "Or tip, cause they're just doin' their damn job."

[vdistinctive]

"Don't you dare not tip my staff!"

[geniuswithasmartphone]

Hardison laughed, giving up the argument quickly. He'd gotten the reaction he'd wanted, there was no reason to draw it out and waste Eliot's energy. "Nah, nah, they're in food service," he said, placatingly. "That's different."

[vdistinctive]

"Ain't nothin' different 'bout it," Eliot grumbled, curling up against Hardison. Had he realized he wasn't going anywhere yet? "Don' know where you get your weirdass ideas."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

He was starting to get that idea. But then, he was a genius.

"Yo, waitstaff get paid a pittance to work an' need tips to make up the difference," Hardison said, falling into the natural rhythm of the conversation. "Regular delivery folks who ship mail an' stuff? They make enough they don't need tips."

It was actually that single individual that Hardison had refused to tip, but this had grown so much bigger than the mere reality that had sparked the debate in the first place.

[vdistinctive]

Eliot harrumphed. "You say I don't pay my people a livin' wage?"

Luke's had some of the best paid diner staff in the country. Hell, most people only really had to work there once a week to be doing okay. . . .

[geniuswithasmartphone]

Hardison rolled his eyes. "I'm sayin' that's true for most waitstaff," he said. "Man, don't even expect me to explain the economics of this island. It makes my head hurt." But unable to help himself, he added with a sly smile, "Though if you pay 'em so well, why am I s'posed to tip 'em?"

[vdistinctive]

"Because it's goddamn polite." This was a pretty well worn argument. Eliot didn't even have to put any energy into it. "They're doin' you a service."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"Right, cause they're in the service industry," Hardison countered, arguing on autopilot at he went back to finger-combing Eliot's hair. "Does that mean I tip the folks workin' a cash register or in clothin' stores?"

[vdistinctive]

"Are those folks bringin' you your clothes for you while you sit pretty?" Eliot asked.

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"Only in the high-end boutiques," Hardison said. "The ones who get paid hella more than minimum wage."

[vdistinctive]

"I can guarantee they still ain't makin' anywhere near what their customers do," Eliot said. "They're providing you a personal service. Slippin' 'em extra cash is just bein' nice."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"I'd be more inclined to tip 'em if I thought they were bringin' me clothes to be helpful an' not just keepin' an eye on my to make sure I ain't stealin' nothin'," Hardison harrumphed.

[vdistinctive]

"If it makes you feel better, places bring clothes to Sophie when she drags me along with her, too."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"Well, yeah, that's Sophie," Hardison pointed out. "She probably starts using NLP the minute she walks into a store. How many times you make her tea before you figured it out?"

[vdistinctive]

"Shut up," Eliot said. "'m tryin' to relax."