He was amused by what this Puck kid was going to be facing once Quinn took full advantage of the situation. Better the man responsible than the bystanders. Eliot smiled slightly. Were people afraid to cross him? If he was in the right place and time, the answer would have been yes. He had a reputation that wasn't too far from the truth. The people that knew of it knew crossing Eliot Spencer could be one of the last things they did in their life. "Yeah, they do," he replied after a few brief seconds of silence had passed. "I think most people are like that. No one appreciates being messed with." It was just the reaction that varied.
"You're welcome." He crouched down to find a pot in one of the cupboards. Pushing aside one of the bigger pots, he found the smaller one. Lying or making it easier wasn't going to do anyone much good. Quinn seemed to know there was a chance she'd be separated from her boyfriend, friend, whoever the guy was to her. Telling her that wouldn't happen wouldn't do her much good. "Depends on what day we're being messed with." He stood and set the pot on the stove. "Been tricksters, angels, whatever comes through that damn seal." And he hated it every single time he was blindsided. His head had been messed with more in the past year than in the past thirty three years for him combined.
"Yeah, I remember. When I got back, it sort of faded because it's nothing you talk about without seeming crazy. Like having a bad dream." Grabbing the cutting board and a knife, he turned to grab a few stalks of celery and washed them off before he started chopping. "Some people show up again and they're from a different point, don't remember a thing from the first time they're here."