Who: Eliot and open
What: Eliot lurking about assorted parts of the barge before and during the flood
Where: The Chapel, the gym, hallways, etc....
When: beginning of January and through the flood
Warnings: Will add if needed

Eliot's been keeping mostly to himself, for values of keeping to himself that include haunting the hallways and public areas of the barge in an attempt to learn everything he can about the place and the people in it without getting himself actively entangled with any of them. He's looking for weaknesses to exploit, potential avenues of escape, not ways to fit in and get comfortable. He hasn't slept in his designated room once so far, though he does use it to store (carefully hidden) some of the items he's gathered for improvising weapons, instead rotating through the empty cabins for irregularly timed catnaps, using the public showers for quick, efficient scrub downs only when the halls are empty and quiet and the facilities deserted.



Dining Hall

The only place he tends to linger is the dining hall during mealtimes, usually in a dim corner with a good view of the room, working his way methodically through his food and watching the comings and goings of the other residents. Matching faces to things he's seen on the network, figuring out as much as possible who's friendly with who, who's at odds, who's keeping a careful distance like himself. Mostly, trying to tell the wardens from the prisoners, because he wants to make sure he knows exactly who's there to win their heart's desire off the captivity of the rest.


Gym

He does the bulk of his exercising on deck or in whatever empty cabin he's squatting in at the time, but he has taken to making limited use of the gym. He's in there for maybe half an hour a day, usually on a treadmill, still in boots and jeans and a flannel shirt, because the clothes in 'his' closet were sized for the seventeen year old version of him, and he might not be a tall man, but he's a hell of a lot bigger than he was back then. So he runs at a steady pace, mostly watching whoever else might be using the room with a coolly assessing gaze.

Deck

He does his 'real' running on the deck, usually during what passes for the middle of the night, sometimes for hours at a time. He doesn't seem particularly bothered by the snow or the ice, and once he's been moving long enough he'll strip off his flannel and just keep going round and round in his jeans, tee and boots. Sometimes, though, he just stands at the rail and stares out, because he's not afraid of that shit, dammit.

Greenhouse

The one place he comes just because... he wants to. At least there's some damn green, and he'll find a quiet spot and just sit and breathe in the scent of something that's not metal and sweat and over-processed air for a while, maybe pull the occasional weed because he's there, so why not?

Chapel, for Steve McGarret

He's here for one reason only, and that's because he's figured it's the only place he's going to manage to get his hands on the means for fire. Candles might not be the best tools in the world for melting things, but they'll do, and they're available here, apparently unrestricted. So for once he's actually wearing the battered old jacket from the wardrobe in his cabin, the pocket space welcome as he slips half a dozen candles and a couple books of matches for lighting them deftly out of sight.

During the Flood

Starting the morning of the flood Eliot can be found lurking even more lurkily in the corridors of the barge, given it's a lot easier for a twelve inch toy Delta Force Operator to move around unnoticed that a full grown human man. He'd actually tried to take off most of the gear and insignia and stash it in his room, not at all amused to have his history laid out for all to see, but even though everything seems to be detailed and realistic it's not actually removable, and he has a nagging fear that most of it's actually sewn to him in places he can't see. To compound that, the weapons are disappointingly non-functional, though at least he has rope for getting up on tables and at door handles.

For the first couple of days he'll be keeping mostly to his usual habits, but as the flood progresses he'll take to setting up ambushes from under tables in the dining hall or the common rooms, trying (pretty effectively) to sneak into peoples rooms to booby-trap them, and possibly assembling the requirements for tiny molotov cocktails in regretful lieu of C4 or armor piercing rounds if he can manage to steal alcohol from someone and find tiny enough containers. And other tiny residents might be either recruited as collaborators or treated as enemy combatants.