Eliot was a man who was very comfortable in his own skin. He wasn't ashamed of nakedness, he had a body of balanced strength and good assets that pleased a lot of women. So even being stripped of the joke that was his clothing, baring to the world the full dripping erection that Sam had all but forced on him, he wasn't ashamed.

More importantly, he wouldn't allow himself to be because that would be exactly what Sam wanted.

He was dispassionate to the announcement he would be naked from now on, not to be given even that tiny bit of dignity that even the lowliest tortured souls were given after their sessions. He didn't even have to tell himself it didn't matter, because it didn't. It was just one layer of fabric that held no protection and being taken away could be used as a form of humiliation.

He did open his eyes though when he felt Sam moving away, but soon he discovered he was still pinned and couldn't move even his legs to get them up. He tried a few times before giving up, choosing to conserve his energy for any trials ahead. Sam's return had glancing to the briefcase and back at Sam.

"Sure," he said, trying to show how little he cared. "If you get yer rocks off that way. So you'll come 'fore an' after yer pals string out my guts?"