Eliot flinched again, unable to look Hardison in the eye (physically and emotionally). He'd never been this tired. Not in Croatia. Not in Myanmar. Not in that damn park in DC when he'd been so sure his team was going to leave him behind (where they should've left him the hell behind).

He wanted Hardison to be right. But mostly he wanted to sleep.

"Please," he said, voice soft and flat. "'M tired."