Eliot was exhausted. His sword probably hadn't gotten so much use since the 16th century, and he missed Hardison, who was camped out at the library for the duration, and Parker, who was still a ferret. His dreams last night had been all full of terrifying surgeries and his body breaking down and him slowly bleeding to death in a dank basement corridor while his team desperately tried to get to him, and now the specials board kept spewing medical jargon and painful personal questions, no matter how many times he erased the damn thing.

Oh, and he could still feel exactly how freaked out his staff was. It was like their panic was feeding on itself, bouncing back and forth from person to person to create a massive terrified feedback loop. So, despite being exhausted and at least a little bit covered in spider blood, Eliot was leading the Luke's staff in some self-defense exercises.

They were really, really bad at it. But it was at least calming them down a little.

Today's specials
Why do you want to die?
Don't you love us anymore?
DAMMIT ELIOT DON'T YOU DARE DO THIS OPEN YOUR EYES

Luke's was open. Food orders might take awhile, though.