Psh, Eliot would never call anyone weird! Except Quentin. And Alice. But they're precious nerds, so it's fine. Meanwhile, he slowly cracks open an eye and sits up, peering through the semi-darkness at the gamine, not-un-elf-like herself creature peering around the corner, sitting all the way up and smiling back, more inquisitive than cautious (because, you know, he lives) here. Probably he hasn't possessed the ability to blush since about age 12, but Jeff's Eliot makes him tip his chin down and affect something like throat clearing, or. You know, would be throat clearing on someone else.
"That's me," he elects to say, instead of. Trying to even quantify what's going on there. Much like Jefferson, elsewhere! How delightful. "In all my resplendent glory."
What, should he be trying to pretend he's not fabulous? Fffft. None of that. He pats the couch next to him with one giant paw, serenely, so apparently if anything is especially weird, it's not a train of thought Eliot has managed to board yet. "Sit down. I'm painfully sober, and that can't be allowed to continue."
To help put her at ease, perhaps, or because he's ridiculous, he nudges the table again, dildo accessory quivering on cue. "Is this your friend or mine?"
no subject
"That's me," he elects to say, instead of. Trying to even quantify what's going on there. Much like Jefferson, elsewhere! How delightful. "In all my resplendent glory."
What, should he be trying to pretend he's not fabulous? Fffft. None of that. He pats the couch next to him with one giant paw, serenely, so apparently if anything is especially weird, it's not a train of thought Eliot has managed to board yet. "Sit down. I'm painfully sober, and that can't be allowed to continue."
To help put her at ease, perhaps, or because he's ridiculous, he nudges the table again, dildo accessory quivering on cue. "Is this your friend or mine?"