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Summary
Hardison is a patient man—being patient means accepting that the movement of the world happens in its own time, and that your anxiety won’t bring the future any closer than it is already. He was patient with Parker, letting her come to him in her own time. They were both patient with Eliot, and then in the middle of a haze of gunshots, with Eliot zipping from thug to thug, disarming, disabling, El looked over his shoulder and said, "Hey, you guys are trying to get me to sleep with you, right?" and Parker yelled, "Well, yeah, but mostly we're trying to get you to go on dates with us!" and Hardison added, hollering, "We think you're the bees knees, man!" Eliot tucked, rolled, kicked the legs out of some poor kid in way over his head, and as he took the gun apart shouted, "Yeah, ok. Tonight? I'll make steaks." Then he did some kind of kung fu move and brought down the last goon standing in their way.
Like, Hardison doesn't know what he expected. He knows Eliot operates better in chaos. It's the quiet times that fuck with him.