[ Eliot looks like he's handling things well, considering. He looks exhausted but exhausted more bored, and there's a strange sort of part of Quentin that can't understand why and is also jealous. He wishes he could be bored right now. He doesn't wish that he could ever be bored of Fillory.

But what's important is that his friend is there, wit and all, and Quentin nods, wincing as he lifts the bag up from over his head and onto the floor. It's a lot to carry, and he may be built like a box but he's not actually that strong. ]

I didn't know what you wanted or what you might like, and I coudn't carry your mixing set or anything, but--- [ He stoops down, pulling bottles out. Rum, vodka, bourbon, whiskey, gin, the works ] --I figured you could work with it.

[ He does glance over at the two guards, brows raised. 'Are they joining even though we're not sharing?' ]