There was once a proverb about knowing one's enemy more than he does himself, followed in the same breath by that one must also learn, and know, the truth. That knowing the environment is equally as important, if not more so. It was something that had stuck with Elliott ever since the very first day he'd been assigned as Gabriel Ashton's Handler, and rightly so given that the man in question was a con-artist, a criminal by anyone's standards. But he hadn't gained his reputation by sheer luck or coincidence.
Gabriel was smart—smarter than Corp-Sec ever gave him credit for—and it was why Elliott was still so stuck in that age-old proverb. The doubts still rattled around in the back of his mind every so often, questioning if this wasn't exactly where Gabe wanted to be. Right in the thick of everything, surrounding himself in the proverbial enemy's environment so he could learn, adapt, and overcome. Sometimes he even wondered if that was why Gabe had been so compliant with having a Handler.
Was he just biding his time? Learning everything there was to know about him until the day he could use it to his own advantage?
Surely it was just paranoia from all of Elliott's years in Corp-Sec.
So, as Gabe approached the desk on his way back from the break room, Elliott cast him something that could vaguely be passed off as an amused smile and nodded towards the mug in his hand. Precinct coffee wasn't exactly the best option for the avid caffeine fan.
"That won't taste any better than the last cup you attempted and hated y'know," he stated, eyebrows lifting slightly as though surprised he'd even bother.