It was incredibly hard to hold a conversation while being tortured, especially by someone who actually knew what they were doing. The knife going in cut Eliot to the bone, punching his breath out with a sharp stab of pain, but doing no major damage yet. Not that damage had any meaning in a place like Hell, but Eliot was still human enough to psychologically catalogue it according to that scale. Maybe a few years in hell would change that, but not yet.

"Would hate to disappoint you then," Eliot gasped when he had the chance. There wasn't much of that though as he didn't have breath to talk between holding it whenever Sam worked.

Eliot wouldn't meet Sam's eyes either, knowing it would be harder for the other man if their eyes met. He knew Sam didn't want to do this, just like how he knew the other would falter otherwise, and Sam couldn't afford to while he was watched by Lucifer. Maybe Sam was pretending it wasn't Eliot he was doing this to, maybe he was distancing himself, but whatever method, Eliot will try to cooperate by not drawing him back.

No, he kept trying to draw Lucifer's attention instead. "I wasn't... askin' for what y'can do to Sam."