Eliot watched Sam's approach, his whole form seemingly relaxed, without a bit of tension in his muscles, just a guy recovering after newly being tortured. But behind his hooded eyes Eliot were alert, calculating the shrinking distance between them, his own strength, how quickly could he close that distance.

Sam was right, anything could be torture. It didn't have to be physical, not even psychological torment. The simplest things were all that was required, and Sam knew what he was doing if he could list such simple things. And Eliot knew, knew intimately, the pain from those things far exceeded any broken bone and open skin that could be dealt to him. This wasn't an average grunt he was dealing with, but someone who had finesse.

"Yeah? So I see, has to be you. Lead by example." Eliot nodded again to Sam's explanation. Sam was still too far, he needed at least to be two steps closer before Eliot could reach him in one move. He could flex his fingers now, which meant although his arm might not be full strength, it was usable.

But Sam dropped the ball and Eliot's eyes went a little flat. So that was how it was going to be. "Yeah," he answered tonelessly, a voice that suggested it wasn't the fun sort nor did his behavior indicated he was in any way gay. He had been in his share of third world, forsaken lightless, concrete boxes, and Eliot couldn't always fight his way out of things. "I have. That's your plan?"