He's not entirely unaccustomed to being run into, man people have faked accidental run-ins at Brakebills to find a excuse to talk with him. This is very different from those situations though, relatively far deadlier even, given the blade that comes dangerously close to piercing his overcoat. He steps back half a step to keep himself steady when the hand flies out to grasp his shoulder. Caught between shock and confusion, his arms reach out to the man's sides to steady him further.

"What are you--" He notices the slack in the other shoulder, the way it hangs unnaturally, and Eliot's brow furrows.

"Oh, shit," he remarks softly to himself. "You're hurt. Can you move it? Is it dislocated?"