Eliot was worn and it was lucky that Sam wasn't trying to hurt him, his response would've been sloppy at best. Especially now, with no splint and nothing to physically hold the broken pieces of his arm in place except Sam, Eliot was racked with pain from each movement and supporting himself upright was all he wanted to do.

It wasn't beyond his pride to accept the aid of the demon who raped him and broke his arm, this wasn't personal. He wanted to get a shower and, yeah, sleep, but he wasn't going to get the former, Sam was clear on that, and the latter didn't sound like a good idea despite what Sam said he should do.

He managed to get to the room without any dragging involved although he allowed Sam to support more of his weight than he really wanted to. The place was just what Eliot expected a rich bedroom in Hell to look like, luxurious, Gothic, and full of subtle malevolence. It was no more than a lavishly decorated dungeon, the meat hooks replaced by chains under the bed and solid rings in the overhanging frame.

Eliot wasn't particularly surprised when Sam led him to the corner where an overlarge dog cage sat with blankets and pillows. At least there were those, which was more than Eliot expected in this place.

Eliot thought about fighting, he probably could try again, but in the end he bowed his head and crawled in. Maybe next time when his arm was healed. He put his slashed back to Sam but looked over his shoulder at the demon. "Lucifer?"