Parker & Eliot drabble
In a small room in the theatre’s second story, Eliot sat reading on a couch. He didn't glance up, but Parker knew he noticed her. She plopped down, hard enough to elicit a small huff when her shoulder hit his. Neither spoke, but he adjusted his arm to be a more comfortable backrest, and she hummed softly in gratitude. Settling into the comfort of familiarity, she opened her box of locks and began picking. They had some time to kill before their part of the con, and Parker wanted space away from people-ing before she had to turn everything up high for the grift. Eliot didn't count for having to people, not in this mood. They could sit in silence or stillness for as long as necessary without filling the quiet or succumbing to awkwardness. With this many years between them, Parker could read Eliot better than anyone in the world, save maybe Hardison. They were both taking the downtime to rest and be calm away from human interactions, but it was nice to not be alone while doing so. A couple hours later, Eliot jostled her shoulder as Breanna’s eager footsteps ascended the stairs. Both packed away their hobbies, stood fluidly to hear the latest update, and jumped into the con.















