Eliot listens to him list off the parade of nonsensical horrors and tries to imagine what each of those must have been like, and can only shake his head in disbelief. "Shit," he says finally, and takes another bite of crepe. "This type of thing keeps happening and I'll actually have to get in shape, ugh."

"Though I suppose," he smirks at Sweeney's reminiscence, "the cookies also probably didn't smell so fucking bad. The mermen were too wet for me to set on fire, hugely disappointing. It really felt like...doing community service litter pickup, in the end."

Honestly they should be getting paid for this. Some kind of tax break at least. "I'm sure you were like some force of nature, or something, slow monsters or no."