"So I'm guessin' if I bleed on it then I can read it too."
He wasn't stupid. He was far from stupid, actually. The three of them were connected. He knew it and he felt it. If they could bleed on it and read it then he could only gather that he could too. He'd have to give it a shot.
"Where's the book now?"
He didn't know that it was with Giles at the moment, but he definately wanted to bleed all over the damn thing if it meant helping Buffy and the gang figure out ways to keep him from getting killed. He just wanted to stay alive.
He was a little shocked that he could hear Eliot in his head, it sounded like he was thinking to himself and their think-voices were identicle. This was probably going to become annoying, he'd only use it when he really had to.
"I didn't mean it that way. I meant I knew that the book was powerful and almost impossible to translate. I never got to see it or work with it, that wasn't my job. Things like that don't just come in and out of here without getting talked about at one point or another."
He stuck his fork in his spaghetti and planted his feet on the ground firmly, pushing his chair out from underneath the table using his weight.
"And don't call me cowboy."
He growled, getting up and grabbing his plate. He took the last bite and walked over towards the sink, turning the faucet. Eliot was lucky, really lucky.