I. I don't know? I'm. [ he swallows thickly, looking away. he really doesn't know, and it terrifies him just as much as the way quentin looks outside the windows into the dark. he doesn't feel right anymore, and it seems endlessly. if quentin is already okay, shouldn't he be better now? he's supposed to be better than this. so why isn't he? ]

It's not home if you're not here, Q. [ and he means that both for here as it is here and wherever quentin decides to go, if he goes. no, not if. he's going. eliot knows. he just doesn't want to believe it. ] If. If it happens again, wouldn't we still be safer here? Out there is. So much. The dark. Those. Those malevolent spirits deep in the woods. The rivers. And obviously a whole lot of other bullshit we're much safer avoiding.