The team gave me space after Eliot's episode. I don't know if they were being considerate or just avoiding the awkwardness of discussing what happened - Eliot pinning me against the wall, accusing me of being Triad, seeing the wild, unrecognizable look in his eyes.

I found myself alone in the bar area, nursing a drink and trying to process everything. The cocoa helps steady my hands, which still tremble slightly from the adrenaline rush. When you work with people daily, it's easy to forget they have these other sides - the parts that aren't just teammates, but former soldiers with scars you can't see.

The sound of footsteps makes me look up. It's Eliot, alone this time. He's standing by the lounge chair where I first saw him with the goose. His posture is tense, shoulders hunched slightly, but there's none of the wildness from before. In fact, he looks... defeated, vulnerable in a way I've never seen him.

And there, in his hands, is the stuffed goose - Craisin, I think Quinn called it. Eliot's fingers trace the synthetic feathers gently, almost reverently. He doesn't notice me yet, his attention completely focused on the toy.

I should probably leave, give him privacy. But curiosity gets the better of me - about the goose, about what happened earlier, about this side of Eliot that nobody seems to want to explain.