existencemisspent | Outside 33 Apoclaypse Ave to . . . elsewhere

Eliot stepped out the front door of the house on Apocalypse Avenue to head in to work -- extremely late, yes, but hey, at least he was going, okay? -- and paused to light a cigarette.

It was his first of the day. Not because he was making any sort of concerted effort to quit or anything. He'd just only woken up about half an hour ago. So he could be forgiven, maybe, for pausing on the stoop to savor that first hit of nicotine, closing his eyes and letting out the smoke with a soft sigh.

When he opened his eyes, he was looking at a tree.

With a clock in it.

"Oh fuck me," he muttered. "Margo? Margo, did you get Fillory-napped with me?" He cocked his head, listening for the mellifluous strains of what would surely be an impressive amount of cursing.

All he heard were fucking birds.

"Well. She's going to shit a brick." He sighed, took another drag on his cigarette, then looked around at the nearby bushes. "Any bunnies around here want to go on a trip for me? Hello? I have smokes to spare. . . ."

[Eliot is now officially expat-ed! He'll be showing up from time to time for

not_a_goddamn_princess's plot purposes, but will otherwise be low-key and quiet. Because braaaaaains.]