Feeling Dean's movements, Eliot opened one eye to track the man wearily. "Bit late to ask that," he pointed out in a husky whisper. There was a sharpness in the feverish bright blue gaze at the appearance of the knife but for the moment, Eliot made no actual protest.

Instead, he busied himselfwith wrenching open the water bottle.

"Just do it," he growled when he thought Dean was taking too long.

"Never been shot... with silver before."