75 Godiva, Sunday evening

There wasn't anything quantifiable that Eliot could nail down, but he could tell when Fandom managed to shake off its latest evil invasion. It was like an enormous, evil weight had been lifted from the world.

It was an enormous relief, but mostly Eliot kind of wanted to take a nap. Again. Apparently freaking out as hard as he had took a lot out of a person, more than sleeping a good 10 hours straight thanks to the medication Hardison had dug up.

"Right," he said. "So . . . what. We should be good through, like, March now, right?"

[ooc: for the family, especially, but can also be open!]