Eliot tried to turn from Sam's approach but there wasn't much space for him to retreat to. The rocky wall behind him offered little leeway, and even when he tried, whatever power held him in place also prevented him from escaping. The demon's caress across his cheek raised the hairs at the back of his neck, and he felt bile rising up when Sam leaned in.

To his relief, the demon didn't kiss him. It was just a brush, a feeling of warm skin over his and then it was gone, with Sam stepping back and Eliot stumbling away from the wall.

The second Eliot realized he was free, he tried to attack. It didn't matter that Sam was right, that he had no nowhere to go even if he won, that winning was as futile as his struggles, he just knew he had to keep fighting. It wasn't so much a moral right or wrong than Eliot simply couldn't stand giving up. The end game wasn't the issue, or whether it would be much worse than this to surrender, he wasn't surrendering to it without fighting.

He sprung again like a released spring, aiming to throw several solid quick jabs to Sam's abdomen. If he could catch him in his solar plexus, that should wind and knock the larger man back to give Eliot a slight advantage. Even in terms of size, Sam read larger, taller than him by nearly a full head, but Eliot had taken down bigger people... in life.