What, was "Rudy" on cable last night?

Right. So. There were two very pretty naked people in the bed with him. The joy of that situation was tempered a little by the fact that he had no idea who they were.

He spent several minutes just taking in the situation (and the very pretty naked people) before deciding what he wanted to do about that. Because on the one hand: no idea who they were, what was going on, or why he couldn't remember literally anything. On the other hand. . . . Naked pretty people.

He didn't know much, but he was learning really fast that he was the kind of guy who was really into naked pretty people.

He needed more information.

He eased himself out of the bed, trying not to wake the pretty people. The moment his foot hit the floor, a small dog sat up at the end of the bed, its ears perked. It circled the end and came trotting over -- silently, which he was pretty sure was impressive -- its tails wagging.

"Right," he said softly. "Don't suppose you know what's going on?"

[for the partners!]

Eliot considered swinging by the diner to get his spare change of clothes, but honestly, all he wanted was a nice, hot shower in his own damn bathroom. He'd been in worse spots, certainly, and for much longer.

But he wasn't sure he'd ever been in weirder.

Val went barrelling over as soon as he put his key in the door, and he swooped down to scoop her up and let her lick his chin even though he had god only knew what still stuck in his beard. "Honeys," he called. "I'm home!"

[ooc: for thems as live here]

Eliot's phone had stopped ringing. That was awesome. On the other hand he felt like he'd gotten thrown around by a carnival ride -- again -- and there seemed to be a weight sitting right on his chest.

Val lapped at his chin. The weight on his chest was his small-for-her-breed-but-now-full-grown puppy.

Alrighty then.

[ooc: expecting one, but also open]

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.]

It was a pretty average day of office hours for Eliot, throwing some darts and sorting through some paperwork while Val took a nap on the spare office chair. Until a scrabbling noise in the vents had both Val and Eliot sitting up at attention.

The grate over the vent slammed open and a gremlin in an extremely dusty backwards baseball cap came bursting out of it with a roar. It dodged past Val, ignoring her barking, made straight for Eliot, and managed to sink its teeth into his forearm before he could do more than shout at it. The gremlin then leaped atop Eliot's desk, its green scaly fists raised in a triumphant V, did a victory dance on top of it, and bolted for the vent on the far wall while Val gave chase, scattering papers and office supplies everywhere. The gremlin made it back into the safety of the ventilation shaft, its grembros cheering and slapping it congratulatorily on the back, and Val barked a final warning at it before turning concerned eyes back towards her person.

Eliot stared back at her, eyes equally wide, his hand clamped over his faintly bleeding forearm.

"Wow!" he said finally, and grinned. "That little guy sure was green, huh!"

Val cocked her head, confused, then gave a little puppy shrug and trotted over for some petting. Her person was in a good mood! Who was she to argue?

"How many paperclips do you suppose there are here?" Eliot Big Bird asked. "Let's fine out. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3. . . ."

[so today I get to spend my morning doing a rather specialized job I haven't even had to think about in a little less than a year. TIME FOR A GREMLIN BITE. Open!]