[ well, since it's asked so nicely, and also because it seems to strike some unspoken nerve, eliot decides to let is slide. for now. has he officially met the bones of this person's universe? rough around the edges but soft in the center? god. he's glad quentin isn't here to read his mind or he'd be sure to make a thing of eliot knowing anything about star trek. but then it strikes him why quentin could never be here anyway and how he should have known better than to even think such a thing, and his playful mood dips into something far more solemn. ]

It's the same on my end. [ damnit, guy! eliot wants you to elaborate first! ] I've already dealt with a lot of shit I'm not sure is real, but. If it's a dream, it's the realest damn thing I've managed to sleep through.

[ he thinks about popping one of the oxy in his pocket. he barely remembers taking it out before he's swallowing it down. ]

What's your name?