[ Eliot definitely ate some of the dinner in the middle of the night. He'd also enjoyed the bottle of wine that'd been chilling in the fridge, and when all that was done, he laid on the couch, stretched out as he took some of the ingestible pain killers. Maybe he took more than he needed to, but it feels nice. He drifts in and out of consciousness, and come the morning, he's absently smoking a cigarette.
Eliot's entranced with watching the smoke curl up to the ceiling.
He hears Quentin moving around, and once he knows Quentin is lingering awkwardly by the door, Eliot finally speaks. ]
I have a question for you.
[ Maybe he's still a little high. Just a bit. Enough that he feels like he can talk about this but not too much that he's totally incoherent. ]
And you don't have to answer it, but, you know, it'd probably be better if you did.
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log; @ Quentin (the day after The Mess)
Eliot's entranced with watching the smoke curl up to the ceiling.
He hears Quentin moving around, and once he knows Quentin is lingering awkwardly by the door, Eliot finally speaks. ]
I have a question for you.
[ Maybe he's still a little high. Just a bit. Enough that he feels like he can talk about this but not too much that he's totally incoherent. ]
And you don't have to answer it, but, you know, it'd probably be better if you did.
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