The news caused Elliot to crack open his eyes in a glare. So, poor, traumatized, horrifically-injured Collin was in fact a double-agent, no doubt using the cover of a bed-ridden sufferer to skulk about unseen in the wee hours of the night stealing secrets. He believed it wholeheartedly in an instant, any ounce of kinship that might have once existed between the two forgotten. [i]The little weasel.[/i] Vengeance would swift, sure, and definitive. In the same breath, however, Lillian laid the groundwork for a gambit to suss out Collin's contact. While the others might be thinking about to how contribute to such a plan, Elliot found himself instead wondering when exactly the dimwit who greeted Decoy's present with airheaded jabber became the Wards' mission giver. [i]Still another example of being passed up for an inferior just because I don't play nice,[/i] he concluded, his expression sour. 

Her final statement would have brought a nasty smirk to Elliot's face were it not for his masterful self-control. [i]What makes you think you can rely on me?[/i] he wondered. [i]Some nonsensical, imagined bond between us? Or because I'm literally shackled to you by duty? The former would be sad, but the latter would be mocking.[/i] However, what he said was, [color=8F9779]“The hell do you want me for? You made it sound like this was important. Wouldn't such a job be better left in more 'capable' hands?”[/color] He took a deep drink of his coffee and sat back in his chair, face pointed toward the ceiling. [color=8F9779]“Immaterial. Though I hardly need extend my consent, use me as you see fit, as ever.”[/color]