His attention is drawn somewhere else entirely, even after the words fall from his lips. There’s a drink in his hand, but he’s lost count of which number he’s on by now. Instead he’s just staring out with a glazed look at the others in the Cottage, all smiles. Normaly, Eliot would be blending into the scenery by now, but instead something else has caught up with him and he’s feeling far more vindictive than he should, mainly directed at himself.
The feeling of Margo’s hands on his cheeks certainly brings him about though and he blinks several times as though to put himself back into the present and listen to her attentively. He can’t help the grin that grows on his face, laughing quietly.
“First off, thanks mom.” He laughs, seeming to have sobered up a bit in the moment. He leans down and presses his lips to the crown of her head, grin spreading over his entire face. “But seriously, I’d love to see you punch someone in the dick. I’ve heard stories.” He shudders dramatically, exhaling and pursing his lips as he turns his attention back to the Cottage.
“What the fuck was I going on about anyway? Jesus, no wonder nobody can handle us.” He licks his lips and stares back to Margo. “You sure you don’t sometimes want to punch me in the dick? I probably deserve it. Not that… I want you to actually do that. Please don’t. For the record.”