What, was "Rudy" on cable last night?

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.]

The kitchen staff was being weird again. This time they were huddled together, staring at him from around the head cook, who looked like he wanted to bolt at any second.

"What?" Eliot asked.

"We don't want you in the kitchen today," the cook said, managing to keep his voice from wobbling. "We can't concentrate when you're being terrifying."

Eliot set his jaw. His brows drew together into a remarkable angry V and his nostrils flared. The kitchen staff all took a collective step back.

"Get back," Eliot said very carefully. "To work."

They bolted for the kitchen door. Eliot rolled his eyes and leaned against the lunch counter.

Too terrifying to work in the kitchen. What a load of crap.

( Mild violence, bondage, and taser abuse ahead )

Luke's was not open, today.

[ooc: preplayed with the tremendous whoisalicewhite and age_of_the_geek, who've been remarkably patient with me driving my character crazy and having him take it out on theirs.]