Eliot: I think I found the bomb.
Hardison: What does it look like? Red wires, blue wires?
Eliot: (clicks button on bomb) BOOOOOM!
Hardison: (jumps) You're not funny man.
"Damnit, Hardison, what is it?"
"I realized. Ten seconds ago. When the roof caved in." Eliot grunted, tried unsuccessfully to move the slab of rock pinning him to the ground. "I blame you."
"Me?" Hardison squeaked, his voice rising an octave. "Oh hell no. I've seen this movie before. Blame the black guy."
"It's not a black thing." Eliot snorted, rolling his eyes as he again tried to budge the granite. It moved half a centimeter. "Why does everything have to be a black thing? It's a Hardison thing."
"I was with you the whole time! How in the hell could I bring the roof down on our heads if I was standing next to you?"
"You were the one who told Nate the building was stable!"
"It was stable. It's not slated for demolition until next month." Hardison squeezed his eyes shut. "Okay, I just heard it how you must have heard it…"
"You always say that! You know, I think you need to attend those anger management classes. I gave you a coupon for Christmas."
"I don't have an anger management problem."
"No, you have an anger problem. And you manage it poorly."
Eliot gave another grunt and the slab moved three inches…four. He let his arms go slack, panting with the effort. "You haven't been to that gay bar. I gave you a map and coupons and everything."
"I thought it was a gag."
"Totally serious, man."
"I'm not gay."
"…says the pansy who can't get to his feet."
"Like you're doing a better job. A ceiling just landed on me."
"A ceiling landed on me too. At least I'm trying to move it." Another grunt. The granite had shifted off of his torso and Eliot felt the pain. His chest was going to be one big bruise, but he'd live. "You see where our coms went?"
"Pretty sure they're crushed, man. But if Nate loses the signal he'll know something is up."
"Not much Nate can do alone. And calling in the fire department isn't really an option."
"Not really…" Eliot turned his torso slightly, looking for Hardison, and found his face in the rubble just in time to see his eyes roll up into the back of his head. Further inspection revealed blood. Lots of blood.
"Damnit, Hardison!" But even Eliot couldn't keep that note of fear out of his voice. It was a lot of blood. "You can't just be impaled like normal people? You had to get crushed?"
"Ain't my fault, man."
"It's always your fault, Hardison." Eliot picked his way carefully through the debris. "Why didn't you say you're bleeding out? I would have shoved that thing off me in a second."
"'Cause you couldn't have shoved it off you in a second. Don't pretend you're Superman, Eliot." But Hardison's voice was getting weaker, so weak that Eliot was all but throwing the rocks off his friend.
"How the hell did the place cave in to begin with?" Eliot bit out, frustrated beyond belief but also feeling a nugget of fear, an almost overwhelming ocean of concern. This is the exact reason why he didn't work well with teams. Emotional attachment in a high-risk business could only end in tragedy.
In the way of Bond movies or really cheesey TV shows, there was a sinister, foreign voice from the darkness. "I believe I know the answer to that question."
A beat, when the voice was allowed to ring in the dusty, crumbling room, and then Eliot lashed out, hand smacking against a slab of rock. "Damnit, Hardison!"
Leverage is the best thing since Ocean's Eleven. It's just so...quirky.
So all you quirks out there - review!