"You used to go to lots of...things like that? Before...?" Eliot's seen some of that on the outside--been at galas and parties but as a bodyguard, as a hired gun, or to take someone out. He can fake it, pretend to be someone else. But he doesn't know the world of the rich truly like that.

"...yeah, Moreau's actually really nice when he wants to be." And good at what he does, and organized, and one of the reasons why Eliot preferred working for him.

Preferred in past, past, past tense.

"Just...don't trust him, okay?" Eliot's brows furrow. "He'd also...really easily shoot you in the head in a heartbeat."

He needs to warn him, to tell him to watch his back...because he won't be here to protect him anymore.

Eliot grits his teeth, quickly taking a swig of his beer because something catches in his heart and he feels like he's going to tell Carter everything--this hurts. He wants to protect him. Needs to.

He's almost angry at Carter for making him open up. For reminding him what it was like to feel again.