What, was "Rudy" on cable last night?

Eliot had managed to get Hardison's wound stitched up without much incident -- it was pretty small, all told, only took five stitches -- and even talked him into an orange juice/soda compromise last night. Things had been going pretty much steadily downhill from there. Which considering it started at "girlfriend missing, boyfriend stabbed in the stomach by an alien" was pretty impressive.

For one thing, Eliot had completely failed to find Parker. She'd turned her phone off, which meant Hardison couldn't track her, and she had too many hidey-holes for them to keep track of. Eliot had considered trying to get Val to track her by scent, but it turned out you needed to train dogs how to do that. Val had just sniffed Parker's shirt, looked wildly around, and then started whining.

She was still whining. Only now at Hardison. Which wasn't helping the tensions continuing to rise in the apartment. Especially after Eliot heard the radio broadcast. And Hardison started outright refusing to go to the clinic and get it taken care of.

"You heard Kitty, man!" Eliot paced in front of the couch where Hardison was refusing to get up. He'd just grab the man and carry him out, but that was pretty much guaranteed to pull his stitches, and Eliot had done enough hurting of Hardison for -- forever. "That thing put something inside you, and we don't know how to get it out. The people at the clinic do!"

[ooc: for the boyfriend, and the girlfriend is welcome when her mun is back online! CONTENT NOTE: violence herein!]

Eliot woke with a start, choking on his breath for a moment -- which was weird and drew far too much attention to him if there was someone watching, waiting to use his weakness against hi -- right, okay, no. He was in the loft. On the couch. Where he'd been sitting up waiting to see if ferret!Parker would come out and eat the chicken they'd left out for her.

There was a ferret sitting on the back of the couch next to him, staring at him tensely. When he looked at it it bounced in place and chittered at him. Eliot rubbed his hand down his face, trying to shake the nightmare he'd just had.

"Well at least you showed back up." His voice was still a little choked, his whole body tensed and on the alert. This dream had thrown everything at him: people he'd lost, people he'd killed, torturers, prisons, wars, the whole nine, and his heart rate was still speeding along. Parker scrambled closer to bump her nose against his, and he managed a faint smile for her. "Yeah," he said. "I'm alright. Just --" He let out a sharp breath. "Just gimme a minute. Where's Hardison? He was waitin' up for ya, too."

[ooc: for the boyfrien]

Eliot's clothes had all wound up in the general door to couch area, and it wasn't like he had any spares lying around (and trying to wear Hardison's would make him look like a kid playing dress-up), so after a quick shower (when did Hardison and Parker get all this hair stuff? And why was it all the stuff Eliot used?), he wandered out into the living room area in nothing but a towel to at least find his shirt before he got started on breakfast. (He'd learned early in his cooking career that you just didn't work with those kinds of temperatures without covering your chest. And aprons didn't count.)

And froze, grabbing onto the towel to hold it in place, when he spotted the twelve year old girl standing over by the door.

"The kitchen staff downstairs said you'd be up here," she said.

"Um," said Eliot.

"Why are you living with Uncle Hardison and Aunt Parker?" she asked.

"Um," said Eliot.

"You guys need to clean up in here better, Daddy." She nudged the crumpled pile of pants by the couch with the toe of her shoe. "Mummy would not approve."

Eliot rubbed his hand down his face. "Goddammit, Fandom."

[ooc: generally for the assortment of folks currently at or soon to be arriving at the loft, with bouts of slowplay on all sides, but also open!]

It was a little sad how familiar the sensation of slowly dying while tied to a chair was. Eliot had lost track of how long he'd been drifting into and out of consciousness for, now.

He had to keep reminding himself that this was Parker and Hardison, not a despotic dictator or drug lord. He didn't know what their endgame here was, but their methods were effective. Eliot knew his limits, and the way he was shivering and sweating right now meant he was basically at his.

He wouldn't've thought Hardison was this hardcore. He was almost proud.

( One way or another, it was ending today. )

[ooc: preplayed with the stupendous whoisalicewhite and age_of_the_geek. NFI, natch, but OOC is always welcome.]