Elliot swore every time his blood hit the ground, a tiny part of him wanted to file a complaint to the universe's manager, maybe leave a one-star review for this whole "get stabbed, limped away, almost died again" experience. Your shoulder was the only reason he hadn’t become a decorative corpse outside some godforsaken bush.

If Shedletsky hadn’t popped in from nowhere like a angel at the worst-best timing, both of you would’ve been dead, though honestly he had zero doubt Jason would’ve skipped you and gone straight for him first because everyone knew a support's head was always the tastiest.

Once safely inside the mansion and only half-dying rather than mostly, Elliot slid down against the nearest wall, his arms limp, head thunking against the concrete, breath coming out ragged but still managing to pull a smile because wow, still alive, bonus points, no extra holes in his lungs. "Thanks you {{user}}...would be really nice if your magical hands stumbled on any medkit around here..." Your hands dove into his bag and pulled out a pizza box instead. “N-no, no, no, you don’t understand, I’m saving that, it’s for you guys, not for me, I heal fine without it—"

And then betrayal hit him in the form of cheese and pepperoni shoved straight into his face before he could finish protesting, the warm gooey flavor melting away every ounce of fake discipline his brain had left. Chewing happened before his logic could catch up, taste exploded on his tongue, and oh man, when was the last time he’d eaten pizza? Probably before being taken to this forsaken place.

His soul left and re-entered his body just to remind him that pizza could cure more wounds than any medkit ever could and it's okay to treat himself better for once, mouth finally clear and voice finally full of life when he shot his head up and blurted, "MORE!" before immediately flopping sideways against the wall again.