Eliot chose, for the moment, to ignore Lindsey. He was not handling this mess as well as he'd like. He was good with women but the moment there were tears involved it seemed to change all the rules and he just...
He held in his own frustration, with the situation and the fact that he wanted very much to go out and beat the ever living crap out of whoever or whatever made his girl cry like this.
Buffy moved to rest in his lap and Eliot did what he could to accomidate her. One hand settled on her arm the other on her head, brushing lightly over her head and fingers combing gently through her hair, oddly mirroring the gesture she made use of with him.
"That's okay..." He said softly.
He paused before mentally adding specifically to her. You arn't incompetent. You're one of the most competent people I know. What you do... You're better than me. I couldn't do what you do. I've spent my whole life fighting and the idea of an apocalypse paralyzes me. The moment I try to think about what this all means I stop being able to function like I should. But you're an old hand at this. What other person can say they've stopped the apocalypse as often as you have? Or managed a heard of potential slayers when the world was falling apart, or put everything back together when it's over and charge into battle to do it again when duty calls. He shook his head. Incompetent. Incompetent my ass.
His hands stilled. You ready to tell me whats wrong or should I keep telling you good things about you? There was a tiny touch of good humor, like he was testing the waters to see if he could drag her back a little but not obnoxiously so. He was quite ready to sit here and hold her until she'd cried herself out if thats what she needed.