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sp0o0kylights · 17 days ago

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“Alienate.” Flo mutters, the first thing Phil Callahan hears when he enters the station. “No, that's eight letters. Darn.”

“How’s the crossword, Miss Flo?” He asks, as he always asks, every morning.

It’s part of a little routine he’s established with their doting receptionist, partly out of boredom, mostly because she sometimes asks him for help.

If there’s one thing Phil enjoys doing, it’s helping.

(It’s why he became a cop, after all.)

“Hi, hun. I’m stuck.” Flo responds, staring down at the New York Times spread out before her.

It’s a quiet Friday morning and a quick glance at the open and dark-empty office of the Chief says the man’s not in yet, and so Callahan rounds the big wooden desk to stare at the puzzle over Flo’s shoulder.

“Which one?” He asks, seeing most of it’s already been filled out.

Flo jabs a finger at the offending clue, her nails painted a light pastel blue. “Pushed away through inattention.” She reads dutifully, then traces her finger to the blank section of the crossword, tapping at it. “Nine letter word.”

Phil cocks his head, thinks it through.

“It wasn’t alienate.” Flo says, non-helpfully.

“Ignored?” Phil tries.

“That’s seven letters.”

They both stare down at the puzzle, the black and white squares taunting them.

“Neglected.” Phil says suddenly, triumphant. “It has to be neglected--the word has to end with a D to make sense in the puzzle. See?”

One of two words that crosses over with their missing piece is ‘abandoned’, which fits nicely with the apparently gloomy theme of today’s crossword.

“Doesn’t work with the other word that goes through it though.” Flo points out, defeating the proud little glow that had been building in Phil’s head.

The other bisecting word is ‘isolated’, making him wonder if the puzzlemaker is in the middle of a rough divorce.

(Or maybe just a rough day, and he’s the one projecting…)

“Well, hell.” Phil grumbles, staring down at it.

“Try estranged!” Powell calls as he passes by with a mug full of coffee.

Flo carefully pencils in ‘estranged’ and makes a pleased noise when it fits.

“Thank you, hun!” She calls, and Phil huffs at himself for not seeing it, but also refuses to let Powell’s one upping ruin his day.

The man himself offers their receptionist a smile, before tossing a casual reprimand Phil’s way.

“Callahan, get to work, would you?”

“Yeah, yeah, smartypants.” He says, going to fetch his own cup of coffee. “Save the bitching for the Chief.”

Powell rolls his eyes at him, and Callahan makes a face back, and the two of them go on to have a very boring, small town cop sort of day--right until a legitimate call finally comes in.

Well.

Sort of.

“The Harrington residence is having a too-loud party again.” Hopper says, having finally shown up sometime between nine and noon. “Drunk teenagers are throwing up in people’s lawns.”

“It’s not even dark yet.” Powell mutters, staring at the clock as if he couldn’t imagine a party taking place before 8 pm.

“Teenagers don’t care about that shit, that’s why they’re getting the cops called on them.” Hopper snips back. He’d been in a mood all day, and not the fun, jolly kind.

“Come on Callahan, let’s go remind Harrington Jr. that it’s his daddy that owns this department, not him.”

“I wish you wouldn’t joke about that.” Phil says as he follows Hopper out the door, waving goodbye to Flo as he goes. “People are going to think you’re serious.”

(Sometimes, Phil thinks as he swings into the patrol truck, that Hopper is serious.

That they are being paid to look the other way.

Then he takes a sip of their god-awful coffee and hears Hopper’s ancient truck cough to life, and figures, if anyone was getting cash here, there would at least be evidence of it.)

xXx

Harrington Jr.’s party isn’t quite the chaotic disaster it was made out to be, though there are a handful of tipsy teenagers stumbling around the lawn.

“One of these idiots is going to drown in that damn pool someday.” Hopper complains through gritted teeth as he storms up the driveway, kids scrambling into action the second they spot him.

One loudly screams; “Cops!” and the rest of them scatter, running in so many directions it makes Phil’s head spin. He briefly moves as if to give chase before deciding there’s simply too many to bother.

(Knows that it’s unlikely they’ll arrest anyone but Harrington tonight, anyway.)

“If the right kid bites it, Dick Harrington might even have to come deal with it personally.” Over his shoulder Hopper tosses Phil a shark’s smile, barging up the porch to bang hard on one of the two front doors. “Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?”

“No, not really.” Phil says, because he’s thinking about dead teenagers in pools.

“Also I don’t think Richard likes to be called Dick.” He adds cautiously, just in case the man himself happens to be home.

It’s unlikely, doubly so given all the drunk minors, but that just means Phil isn’t surprised when it’s not the Vice President of Indiana Corporate Consulting, LLC that opens the door but his son, Steve.

“Officers.” The kid drawls, shirtless in swim trunks, not a single strand of his perfectly styled hair out of place. “What can I do for you?”

He leans casually in the doorway, as another kid screams out a warning inside.

“You can cut the shit.” Hopper says. “You know the drill. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

Harrington does neither of those things, instead tilting his head and making a face like he just smelled something foul.

“I’m not drunk. And anyone who is drunk brought it without telling me. You should go arrest them.” Steve jams a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the rapidly emptying house.

Then he smirks at both of them, every inch the newly crowned King the kids insist on calling him.

“You think your old man is gonna believe that?” Hopper snarls, infuriated. He never was one that dealt well with teenagers. Or at least, these kinds (and that damn Munson kid, who just loved stealing everybodies lawn flamingos.)

“I think you’ll find ‘my old man’,” Steve mockinly mimics, “doesn’t care.”

“He will when the neighbors start calling.” Hopper tosses back as Phil pushes past Harrrington Jr. to begin the process of trying to wrangle drunk teenages. “That’s Janet Wilkinson’s prized hydrangeas Hagan’s been throwing up in. You wanna see what happens when she talks to your mother?”

“She has to get a hold of my mother to talk to her.” Steves snarks, instead of pulling out his usual charm. “Why do you think she called you instead?”

This isn’t Phil’s first call to the house, but it is the first time Harrington Jr. has been this combative. It’s new, but not exactly unexpected.

Not when Steve Harrington has been hurtling towards this ever since he started hosting parties.

“You think your parents won’t care when I call them?”

“Well they haven’t before, so--”

Phil rolls his eyes as the kid and Hopper trade more barbs, the adult’s growing sharper and sharper as Steve makes a couple of arguments about being held accountable for other people’s actions (and something else about unreasonably high standards and making his own bail.)

Let's them argue it out as he quickly realizes he will definitely not be catching teenagers, and pivots to scanning for too-drunk stragglers in need of help.

“Keep running your mouth, Harrington, and I’ll let you cool your heels overnight in a jail cell. That what you want?”

“You already did that, remember? Swore you’d never do it again because I was too annoying.”

“You can’t annoy me if I’m not the one there watching you--”

Phil tunes out the rising voices, his attention snagging on something else.

The Harringtons’ entryway was sparse, and the rooms beyond weren’t much better. The whole house had the sterile feel of a museum; untouched and unlived in.

Not even a swarm of teenagers had managed to leave much of a mark. Or at least, not in these few rooms, anyway.

Which is what makes the scraggly note stand out.

It’s taped to the wall right above the phone, but slightly askew, like it’d been thought of last-minute. A little crumpled, like someone half-heartedly tried to peel it off before giving up and pressing it back down.

‘Who puts a phone in the entryway?’ Phil wonders, but then, it is the Harrington’s.

Maybe they need it to find each other in this huge fucking house.

He leans in to read the note, spotting the bold letters at the bottom informing everyone the entire notepad had been custom ordered for RICHARD HARRINGTON, VP.

‘Darling,’ beautiful cursive starts, at odds with the footnote, ‘Sorry that we couldn’t get a hold of you. Your father had a business opportunity, you know how important those are. I’ll send you a postcard. Take care of the house, remember that Martha is coming on Wednesdays now to get the dry cleaning. Do something fun for your birthday!’

It’s signed XOXO, Muffin.

Muffin is, of course, Richard Harrington’s wife, and also a walking punchline. Or at least she is when people aren’t tripping over themselves to stay on her good side.

Weird that she signed it as such instead of with ‘Mom’, but then Muffin always has been a bit…much.

More importantly (besides the fact that they skipped out on their own kids birthday) is the date at the top, which says the note was left Tuesday, March 17th.

It’s currently the middle of May.

Flo’s crossword springs to mind, each guessed word clicking into place beside Steve’s own, still warm, spoken just moments ago.

Abandoned, and ‘She has to get a hold of my mother to talk to her.’

Ignored and ‘I think you’ll find my old man doesn’t care.’

A cold realization sweeps through Phil, as he recalls the things they’ve all heard other kids say about Steve.

No parents.

Big house.

Always down for a good time.

(‘Neglect is the failure to give somebody proper care or attention.’ Powell had argued on their lunch break, as Phil complained that ‘neglected’ fit the stupid crossword better than ‘estranged’ had.

“Estranged works because it’s when you’re not really talking to someone. Hence the pushing away part. They’re different. Similar! But different.”

“That’s dumb.” Phil argued back.

“You’re dumb.” Powell replied, then laughed when Phil gasped in mock offense. “It’s why you’re getting taken to the cleaners in your divorce!”

“Hey man, come on, too far!”

“Sorry, sorry--” )

All cop’s develop intuition, even the small town ones, and Phil’s kicks in as he stares at the note.

Neglected might be a hard sell for a fifteen year old that drives a BMW, but estranged definitely fits the bill.

(He’s pretty sure neglect does fit the fucking bill no matter how much money the kids parents have, but he’s been on the force long enough to know how these things go.)

He turns on his heel and marches over, sticking himself right in between his boss and the only remaining teenager.

“Where are your parents at, again?” He asks, right over whatever point Hopper was butchering.

“What?” Steve and Hopper both say, before giving the other a look for it.

“Do you know where your parents are at?” Phil asks again, switching up the wording a little just like they’d taught him in the academy.

“Uh…No?” Steve says, seeming too startled to lie. “You’d have to call dad’s receptionist.”

“Okay. And when are they coming back?”

This time Steve tosses a look at Hopper, like Phil’s the one being weird here.

“When they get back.” He says, and it’s like he’s trying to still sound tough, to put forth that King persona, but is fumbling a little now that it’s not Hopper who's asking the questions.

“So you have no idea, at all.” He clarifies, and feels his stomach sink a little.

“I mean, I could also call dad’s receptionist.” Steve says, like that makes it better.

“Whose in charge of you while they’re gone?” And yes he knows it’s a stupid question, knows that Steve is fifteen (he thinks, anyway) and is perfectly old enough

“...I am.” Steve says, right over Hopper’s annoyed; “What the hell, Callahan.”

“Chief, can I talk to you?” He says, turning to face his boss.

Hopper stares back at him in disbelief, before making a show of summoning the last of his patience with a loud sigh.

“You.” He points at Steve. “Sit. Stay.”

“Want me to shake too?” Harrington Jr calls out in an attempt to recover, but Phil’s got a hand on Hopper’s elbow and is dragging the older man away before he can get sucked back in.

“You better have found something good Callahan.” Hopper warns, as Phil snatches the note on the wall as they pass by.

“Hopper,” Phil says quietly, leaning in as he pulls Hopper all the way into the kitchen, kicking empty solo cups as he goes. “I don’t think his parents have been home in a while.”

He shoves the note in the Chief’s face.

“No shit, kid.” Hopper spits, and the nickname sits badly, now that Phil’s heard it spat at Steve the same way.

(Hopper doesn’t mean it, Phil knows he doesn’t.

Hopper’s the best boss Phil’s ever had. The guy’s just a little rough sometimes, gets lost in the little things and needs to be brought back down.

‘He’s got a lot going on, hun, but we’ll get him there.’ Flo says when he’s been really mean, and Phil knows they will, he’s seen it himself, but sometimes he wishes whatever the Chief was healing from would let him go a little faster.)

He grabs the note, eyes scanning over it, and Phil talks a little faster.

“No, I mean, look at the date, Chief. They’ve been gone for months.”

Hopper looks up from the note and gives him the world’s flattest state. “So?”

Phil gapes a little at him. “Isn’t that abandonment?”

In response, Hopper simply steps more into the kitchen, then throws open a door next to the stove. Reveals a huge, walk-in pantry, piled high with all kinds of food.

Stands next to it like it’s a party trick he just unveiled.

“Given the lights are on and that fancy little car of his seems to have gas, I’d say they’re providing for the kid just fine.” He says crossly.

Which isn’t wrong exactly, but it’s not right either.

“Yeah,” Phil protests, “but--”

“Trust me, things could be a lot worse.” Hopper cuts him off. “Save all the pity for someone who actually needs it, and not a kid whose parents’ lawyers will cut both our balls off for even suggesting they don’t care about their kid.”

“Harsh, Chief.” Phil mutters, stung. There’s a small, growing voice in his head that says Steve Harrington does kind of need someone.

That a kid, even one as old as Steve is, shouldn’t be left like this.

“Life’s harsh. Now unless you’re volunteering to watch the kid all night in a cell, I say we call the brat’s parents and this time, we’re gonna hit them with a citation when they get home. See if they ignore that.”

“Please do!” Steve calls loudly, from where he’s still seated on the couch. “It’ll be funny, trust me.”

Hopper goes to pinch the bridge of his nose, before glancing sideways at the island counter covered in solo cups and bottles.

Changes course to pluck an unopened whiskey bottle from the pile, tucking it under his arm.

Storms back out to whatever the Harrington’s call the room Steve’s in, pausing only to stop in front of him.

“Hey.” Steve says, spotting the bottle.

Hopper holds it out. “Oh, I’m sorry, is this yours?”

Steve’s mouth opens, before he catches Callahan’s shaking head. Thinks better of it, and slams it back closed.

Grumbles; “No, sir.”

“Oh it’s sir now, is it?” Hopper says with a snort. “Since you’re so good at eavesdropping, you already know what I’m going to do. Congratulations Harrington, you get out of jail tonight, but,”

He leans forward, putting himself almost nose to nose with the surely teenager, “I will be making sure that this time, your parents pay attention.”

Quick as a shot he’s up and out the door, slamming it close behind him like he forgot Phil was there.

“Good luck!” Steve shouts after him, but it’s clear even he thinks the Chief won their little sparring match.

“Have your parents really been gone since March?” Phil says when the coast is clear, and watches Steve blink at him like he hadn’t realized the younger officer was still there.

“Yeah.” Steve says with a shrug, like it’s not a big deal. “Every kid’s dream.”

It’s not. Even Phil can tell from the way Steve’s face looks just then, that he knows it’s not.

He doesn’t know what exactly posses him, but the next words out of his mouth are; “You ever get too lonely here, you can stay with me.”

“What?” Steve says, eyes snapping right to Phil’s face like he misheard him.

He’s embarrassed for two entire seconds before deciding, fuck it.

He already offered, he’s not taking it back.

“It’s a big house, kid. You shouldn’t be alone for that long.” Phil thinks about his impending divorce. On the emptiness of the house, with his soon to be ex wife long gone. How that eats at him, sometimes. Adds; “No one should be.”

Harrington Jr. stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “Whatever.” He scoffs, but it’s not quite the waspish tone he’d used before.

“You ever need help either, you call me.” Phil says, because that seems important to say too.

He points up at one of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, impossibly high over both their heads. “Even if it’s just to hold a ladder to change one of those lightbulbs.”

Steve’s eyes go up with him then back down, like he’s still not sure this isn’t a joke being played on him.

“I mean it.” Phil says, right as one of the front doors whips back open. Reaches into the pocket of his uniform, and pulls out his card. “You need me, you call.”

“Callahan!” Hopper bellows, and Phil calls out a loud; “Coming!” before making eye contact with Steve once more.

“Take it.” He says, holding out the card, and hopes he sounds like a proper adult when he does.

(Phil often does not feel like an adult, least of which because he’s the youngest in the department by two decades, nevermind the failed marriage.)

“Okay.” Steve says dismissively, but he reaches out.

Takes the card.

It feels like a victory and Phil lets it be one as he leaves the Harrington residence and Steve behind with it. Feels the rot of that be soothed by the fact he at least did something.

(Also see’s Hopper didn’t wait for him, but is instead sitting in the driver’s seat of the truck.

Knows his boss is gonna be pissed at him, but faces the noose anyway.)

“Puppies are expensive.” The Chief tells him darkly, the second Phil opens the door. “And they shit all over the floor.”

“What?” He asks, not always used to his bosses nonsensical ramblings.

He eyes the thermos the Chief’s holding, and wonders if already dumped the whiskey he stole in it.

They all thought the Chief had been getting better, but maybe not…

“Puppies,” Hopper stressed, jamming the hand holding the thermos in Phil’s face (no liquor smell, thank God.) “who have very rich owners, are typically well cared for, even if their idea of care and your idea are different.”

Phil’s face contorts in confusion, eyes following Hopper’s finger pointed middle finger to the fading tail lights of Steve’s BMW.

It takes him a second, but he gets there.

“Steve isn’t a puppy.” He says instantly offended, because teenagers and puppies are very, very different, thanks, and yes okay, he knows it’s a metaphor, but it’s a stupid one.

“Acts like one.” Hopper says, before taking a noisy sip of the thermos.

“He really doesn’t?”

Phil wants to say he complains right back at his boss, but really it comes out as more of a question--because Steve Harrington has never acted like a dog. The kid’s not clingy, or whiny or even loud.

He’s a kid, sure, a teenager that’s obnoxious, but aren’t all teenagers that way, by default?

Phil’s mother certainly said so, though she’d been teasing about it.

(She also said something about how kids who can’t get what they need the right way, will revert to trying out the wrong ways instead.)

“Whatever. Just don’t come running to me when you get too close and Mommy and Daddy show up to remind you it’s none of your business.”

Hopper starts the cruiser, expecting that to be that.

And normally it would be. Phil would leave it alone, even if he disagreed, but today he finds he can’t.

Not when the words from Flo’s crossword are still haunting his head, ‘abandoned’ and ‘neglected’ and ‘pushed away’ lighting up like little warning signs, all pointing towards one very sad kid.

“If they come back.” He finds himself saying.

“Oh, they always come back.” Hopper snorts right back. “Just not when any of us ever want them too.”

Phil doesn’t like that answer, but this time he does leave it alone.

Figures the best he can do for Steve is what he already did. Let him know he saw him. Let him know he understood.

If Steve needs someone, he now knows Phil will come.

He won’t let anyone make him feel bad for offering that, either, because this is the exact thing he signed up to do, when he became a cop.

Even if Harrington never reaches out to him, at least Phil can say he did something. At least he can live with himself.

xXx

Weeks go by.

A month.

Two months and more.

By a year Phil has kind of forgotten about his promise to Steve Harrington, and by the time the Chief has gotten them all involved in some kind of--poisoned pumpkin patch problem, he’s too caught up in trying to figure out what the hell is going on in Hawkins to really think about it.

That is, until the kid himself shows up on his doorstep, with a black eye and a hand hugging his ribs.

Which would be concerning on its own, but it’s worse given that known lawn flamingo thief and constant pain in the police department’s ass, Eddie Munson, is right there with him.

“Hi Officer Callahan.” Munson says, and he, Phil quickly realizes, looks perfectly fine, despite clearly being the only reason Steve seven on his feet. “Uh…Harrington said I should take him here?”

He does not sound certain, and frankly, looks two seconds from bolting.

Given how much Steve is bleeding on him, Phil can’t blame him for it.

“What the hell.” He says, shocked and loose tongued for it. “Did you two get in a fight!?”

“No!” Munson yelps, then immediately stills when the act of it jostles Steve. “I found him like this. He was fucking trying to drive and was weaving all over the place--I got him to stop, and get in my van, but the only thing he’ll say is that I needed to bring him to you!”

Like it wasn’t bad enough the chief had been out of contact all night or that there had been weird people swarming all over town, nevermind all those damn phone calls about loose dogs and--

“You said.” Steve interrupts Phil’s spiraling thoughts, voice sounding oddly strangled, and he'd pay more attention to that if he wasn’t finding new and concerning injuries every second he looked.

“You said I could go to you, for help. If I needed it. Cause Hopper--Hopper’s busy,” Steve’s slurring, Phil realizes and oh god a lot of that blood is on his head, “An’ I didn’t want the kids to worry, but I think…i was wrong, I don’t--I think I’m…I don’t wanna be ‘lone--”

“Okay, okay.” Phil reaches out, tries to take Steve’s weight off of Munson. “Get in here. You too, Munson.”

Expects the latter to protest and is a little surprised to watch as the kid instead helps Steve hobble inside.

“Put him on the couch while I get my first aid kit.” Phil orders, trying not to panic and failing. He has first aid training--more than, actually, because he took it as an elective back when he thought he was going to go to medical school, but that was years ago and Steve looks like he went head first through a blender.

‘Stabilize him now, panic later.’ He orders himself, as Munson settles both of them down on the couch.

“Am I dying?” Steve asks vaguely, to Munson’s increasingly panicked face.

“Nope.” Phil says, voice as firm as he can make it. “Not today.”

He comes over, looking over Steve once again

“You staying Munson?” He asks, more an out for the kid than anything else.

Watches as the older teen clocks that for what it is.

See’s Steve unintentionally lean into his chest, breathing a little weird.

“No man, you’re going to need an extra hand.” Eddie says. “I’m staying right here.”

“Me too.” Steve slurs nonsensically.

“What the hell, me too.” Phil says, just to lighten the mood a little.

Then he drops to his knees and goes about stabilizing Steve.

(At some point Munson decides to help tell his latest flamingo heist story. Phil let him, even if no one had realized he’d pulled off another one again.

He got Steve to laugh, so Phil figures it was worth it, at least. )

Part Two

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laser-tripwires · 5 months ago

Note

what is your read on the scene in the pilot where eliot and nate are playing pool? do you think eliot was being genuinely empathetic or just making small talk? was eliot genuinely hurt by nate?

neither, and both. he wasn't making small talk, he wasn't genuinely hurt, but it's more complicated than that. that scene exists for a wide number of reasons, and very few of those reasons actually have anything to do with eliot. nate is the protagonist, and that scene is arguably the most important character exposition we get on him in the entirety of the nigerian job - BUT there's still a lot you can read about eliot and the team dynamics as a whole, as well as foreshadowing for the wider show.

the scene actually opens not with the pool game, but with hardison pulling nate over to tell him he got dubenich's financials. i call this out because - in the original pilot script? this got cut off from the pool scene by a dubenich interlude which didn't make it into the final show.

now, that's probably information management - much, much easier to focus on nate and eliot's convo if we're not thinking about what dubenich is doing, and the exposition from the dubenich mini-scene wasn't very important. but there's another reason, too -

nate smiles and claps a hand on hardison's shoulder before heading back over to the pool game. it's a fatherly moment! a lot of the nigerian job is dedicated to setting up nate's relationships with the trio (the fact that parker gets mentorship instead of fatherliness in this ep is kinda long goodbye job foreshadowing, even if likely unintentional), and this reiterates that he's gonna be a father to hardison. it's placement just before this conversation with eliot is also telling us that this relationship with the team is going to be the thing that heals nate, which eliot all but says aloud a minute or so later (i'll get there).

right, so the next beat of the scene is eliot offering nate a beer and nate refusing. which is... interesting, given as nate was practically drinking himself to death at the beginning of this episode and will spend the rest of the season doing just that. he clearly has an issue with alcohol and that's clearly being set up to be a large part of his arc. so refusing a drink is significant, and we cut from a wide shot (featuring some truly adorable parker lockpicking, parker picks locks like other people knit) into eliot and nate's game because like eliot, we're curious about this.

nate takes his pool shot - eliot looks to nate, to the beer bottle, and back to nate. he's not paying attention to the pool game because eliot is very smart and has just picked up on the thing i pointed out to all of you a second ago - that refusal of the beer is weird and significant. nate's doing better - which eliot says.

nate almost looks up at eliot but takes his shot instead, and eliot continues. nate mutters a "yeah," without looking at eliot. which eliot again notices, and points out that it bothers nate.

eliot's turned around and sat on the pool table now. his focus isn't on the game anymore, it's on nate. it's really hard to critique this scene from eliot's perspective because the whole point of the scene is to get us as the audience inside nate's head, and eliot's needling is the vehicle through which we do that - he's asking the questions and making the assumptions that we as the audience are doing here. nate's a prickly bastard.

nate does, however, admit that it bothers him. with another of those despondant yeahs. he moves away from the pool and towards eliot, but still isn't looking eliot in the eye. "I mean, this isn't supposed to feel-"

"Good?"

camera change on eliot's line there so we get a better look at eliot's face, and nate's finally looking at him. "good" is likely not the descriptor that nate would have stammered out if his sentence had been allowed to continue, but eliot's a blunt person and more importantly eliot's not wrong. he then smiles, which catches nate off-guard, and after a beat eliot continues.

"It's not hard to figure out. Dubenich screwed ya. He cheated by stealing from that other company and your good guy brain sees him as the bad guy. Your conscience is clear."

midway through that speech, we cut to nate's reaction so we're watching him instead of eliot. he's stony. everything eliot's saying is correct, and most of it is explaining subtext that the audience should already have picked up on. but, y'know. nate is a prickly bastard.

(side note on the script again - the change from "ripped you off" to "screwed ya" is a great example of the kind of edits that get made on the fly after you cast actors with certain affects. not relevant here but i think it's cool - WISH we had the scripts for the rest of the show, because the amount to which this one is useful for analysis and insight cannot be overstated.)

now's when it gets interesting. without a change in facial expression, nate asks eliot if he wants to take his shot - he's not quite interrupting, but he's also clearly trying to cut the conversation short. there's two possible meanings to that line - one, nate's meaning, of shut the fuck up and keep playing. two, the subtextual meaning and what eliot takes it as, which is; get to the point.

eliot takes another swig of beer, nods, and we cut to a close up of him as he pauses and reconsiders the tack of the conversation. i very very much read this as eliot trying to figure nate out here - he had a hypothesis about the state of things, and nate's response let him know he was on the right tack. it's worth remembering that (despite what people tend to percieve him as) eliot is an extremely emotionally intelligent character, and that's being established here as well as everything else.

so he starts out another speech, looking nate in the eye - it's the most intimate moment of the conversation so far, and that's important. "Listen, I'm sorry about your kid."

to me, it's abundantly clear that eliot could have kept talking from there, made whatever point he was about to. but he leaves the space open for nate to respond. small talk is the wrong word for this, and eliot's not exactly feeling out an emotional connection; but he is clearly and deliberately giving nate the opportunity to open up and respond, both out of genuine empathy and (as we already saw) a desire to unpick a little more of what makes nate tick. that's part of eliot's job, after all. he is being a nice person here.

and nate... well, nate's expression doesn't change. the sensible and expected thing to do here would be to say, y'know, thanks, and then move on with the game. but, as i've already said, nathan ford is a prickly bastard. worth pulling up the script again here:

because yeah, he shuts down. we're two thirds of the way through the pilot episode and once again this is serving as exposition for the viewer - nate is in a lot of emotional pain, and he doesn't exactly do touchy-feely feelings. he'd much rather hide at the bottom of a bottle than sort out his issues. anger, and grief, and anger.

now, eliot says that "everybody knows." he half whispers that line, which i think is a really great touch - it's a lot more tender in tone than the response could have been, and i don't think nate picks up on that. my reservations on them as people aside, christian kane and timothy hutton's acting throughout this scene is superb. it's hard to explain, but eliot's affect changes for the next line - "Guy like you goes off the street, a lot of people notice." he's still almost whispering, but he's trying to tug the conversation a little bit towards levity. the emphasis on "a lot" is almost jokey - people smarter than me have pointed out that eliot in early season one has a soft sarcastic vibe that isn't present for a lot of the rest of the show. it's a continuation of what we saw earlier in the episode in the hospital scene.

but once that's said, he halts, and we see his eyes soften a little - he stops quite meeting nate in the eye.

it's a soft little moment of comprehension. eliot has lost a lot of people close to him, and has witnessed the deaths of many innocent children. he absolutely does know what nate is feeling. arguably, bereavement destroyed eliot's life infinitely more than it did nate's. so we get a genuine flash of empathy here. he's thought about this, after hearing of it, maybe before even taking the job for dubenich. "And it was a bad story, too."

we cut back to nate for a second there. he's lost - trapped in a hospital in los angeles rather than a penthouse in chicago. as a first time viewer, though, we don't quite know what he's thinking.

so eliot asks. "How'd they justify that, huh? The insurance company, just... not paying for his treatment?"

and the thing is, coming from someone who's watched seven seasons of eliot being unfailingly protective of every child and vulnerable party who's crossed his path... i genuinely think eliot meant that. yeah, not as an actual question, but as comiseration and sympathy for what he can tell is an awful situation.

but this is nate's show. and we're in nate's head. so we follow nate, across three years of anger and pain and into that hospital room. we see for the first time where nate's standing here, the depths of that sorrow in the moments before it manifested.

worth noting that it's not the full scene - nate running in to grab sam's body was filmed with the pilot but cut back to be saved for the finale, which was a damn good choice. but even what we see here is enough to fully ground us in nate's backstory - we've been watching him dance around in chaos for most of an episode, clearly greiving his son, and now we see the cause of all that hurt. once again, this exchange makes much more sense from the perspective of the writers trying to establish and expand on crucial emotional beats.

when we flash back to nate and eliot, the camera angle has changed. noteable, because we were on a solid back-and-forth talking shot for a minute or so there, and this fully segments the scene instead of plopping us back where we just were.

we've just experienced first-hand the spiral that nate's thoughts have gone down. he answers eliot, still lost in thought - "They claimed it was experimental."

from eliot's perspective, that's a response to his question and an accepting of his empathy. from our perspective, it's an anguished statement of pondering, the re-rotation of a thought that's been trapped in nate's head for three fucking years. they claimed. he is, as we will see in the david episodes, so, so, so angry.

eliot smirks, then drinks. we cut back to his face and the original camera angles. his is where the pilot rewrite between scripting and shooting is the most obvious - in the original script, nate picks up the beer, and that's what prompts eliot's next line.

in the filmed episode, we stick instead on nate's face and let eliot continue. the emotional beat is identical, but it places a greater emphasis on nate's pain and eliot's powers of perception. it's an unimportant script edit, but an interesting one.

what happens next... "Should have kept one of those Monets you found, hm? You fence that -" and it's only at this point nate actually interjects.

i don't think eliot here is deliberately being insensitive nor do i think he's directly trying to just raise nate's spirits. you gotta remember that we as the viewers in nate's head for this scene, not eliot's, and from eliot's perspective the tone has just gotten less gut-wrenching, not more - but eliot's also, as i previously noted, an extremely emotionally intelligent person. it's why i've gone through the whole scene instead of jumping directly to this bit you asked me about, because i really do think the full context is needed to understand.

so, nate interrupts. "Eliot, you and I are not friends."

this is again where context is so important. it's not that he cares about what eliot's actually saying (though i could write a very different essay about how that line of eliot's is lampshading a pretty obvious plothole) but that he's just had to forcibly pull himself back to the present day and he thinks eliot's being annoying and would like him to shut up now, please. not all that different from him asking eliot to take his shot earlier, really, though i think eliot picks up on the curtness.

nate raises his eyebrows. it's a nice attempted reversal of power dynamics - yes he has just interrupted and been rude, but he also immediately attempts to swing the conversation's psycoanalysis onto eliot and why are you talking to me about this i don't know you. of course, we as the viewer can tell nate's in deflective mode, but we'd expect eliot to take it at face value -

which. he doesn't. we get this super interesting little "oh... right." face, and i think it's less eliot realising he's struck a nerve (though it also is that) as it is eliot properly clicking in to what nate's thinking here. i stress again that eliot really is a tremendously emotionally intelligent character, definitely moreso than nate is, and that's reflected in this scene. both of them bounce off one another here a little bit differently to how you'd expect them to just looking at archetypes, and it's this kind of thing that makes the leverage pilot so good.

because eliot picks up on the messaging nate's putting down, the prickly i'm-not-having-an-emotional-conversation-with-a-criminal-i-just-met facade, but he also kinda sees right through it. "...Right. 'Cause you have so many of them."

and it's again this softly sarcastic vibe that's pretty unique to early season one eliot, but it really works here in reestablishing that A) eliot's more observant than nate is giving him credit for, B) he's not going to let nate get away with being tacitly kind of a dick, C) he's really not easily rattled and D) eliot is as much of a chaos gremlin as the rest of the team. this is not the affect of a man actually hurt by what nate said.

all in all, good stuff. but now for the reason i dug the script out to begin with - the ending. it's a well-known piece of trivia that they shot the pilot without a defined ending for the next nate/sophie beat only for aldis to improv the world's best "oooooooh," but what's really fun is if you know that this is because the nate/sophie beat here was actually a late addition. in the script, eliot and nate's conversation finishes like this:

and end scene. eliot still gets the final word, so as to speak, but nate gets a lot more quiet reflection and a much more overt point that nate and eliot are at least peers if not friends right now. but here, instead, sophie presumably starts walking towards nate off-camera and eliot steps back - "Incoming."

and then we're on to nate and sophie, and the scene continues with a new focus as nate is left reeling.

but i really, really like the ending we get because it's that same establishment of peership, of eliot calling out nate's crap, but also of the fact that the power dynamics here aren't as they'd first seem. nate's greiving too much. eliot understands but isn't gonna let it get to him or impact the team. this... is all crucial as far as character establishment is concerned.

this answer got long. i think that this scene is just so, so important for establishing both nate and eliot's characters - and i think people miss an infinite amount of nuance when they take the surface-level reading that eliot said something which annoyed nate and nate was mean. that's very much not what happened, but it also kinda is, and it's what makes this so fun to pick apart. eliot and nate have a fascinating relationship, and it's one that's all too often overlooked. here's john rogers's take on it:

and... yeah!!! you can see all that really clearly in this scene. they respect one another, but that doesn't mean they have to like one another, at least not yet. it's good stuff.

#leverage #eliot spencer #nate ford #nathan ford #john rogers #leverage meta #my posts #......uh. so.#this sat in my drafts for basically half a year.#(i'm genuinely so sorry anon)#(life Happened)#(i really really really meant to get to it sooner but i wrote like half and then burned out on it so have had to come back and. aargh.)#anyway who else wants a really really long post about a scene no-one but me has ever thought this much about? here you go!#i never don't have things to say about leverage.

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