Yeah? Look, I know it's crappy advice and yeah, uh, maybe Eliot could do a spell, or. Something? But he's banged up and being an--

[The sound of the tablet being held against Quentin's chest as he calls through the door at Eliot- You're being an asshole about this. We can both go, if it's that important. Jesus! I know her, too before he comes back, sounding like himself again.]

You're welcome. I wish I could do more.