[ Hardison can count on one hand the people whose presence here would merit instant, visceral relief. Considering the creepy-ass forest involved and the inexplicable sense of imminent danger and all, one in particular takes the crown for most comforting to hear from. ]

Eliot? Eliot! [ Like one half of a weirdly specific set of birdcalls, he hits back with the upward turn in tone of a man who is a) relieved, and b) absolutely totally extremely calm and not freaked out at all, obviously (tm).

Miracles happen. Hardison gives it its dues. Say no more, baby Jesus. He's reading it loud and clear. When they get home and he goes back to doing well-intentioned crime with zero hesitance or regrets, he'll remember this moment fondly. ]

Don't tell me. You're somewhere out here in these Texas Chainsaw Massacre-lookin' trails, right? Quaint little hike through murdertown?

[ Where all the cool half-frozen kids are.

At least there aren't any bugs around. ]