He nods with a tiny wry smile at Eliot's generosity.

"People usually don't pay others to be themselves."

A magician. The possibility of Eliot being an illusionist is actually the first thing that comes to Jean's mind, except that the other option matches everything better, the tricks, cigarettes, Eliot himself. It also fits this whole impossible world like a glove.

Ruminating on the whys rather than the hows, he takes the lead and opens the door in an almost official manner. A look inside reveals Vargas' lovely kitchen. It's the first thing he sees that feels remotely like home, and it moves Jean in a way everything else didn't.

"I can hear the voices as well, Eliot." he says as he holds the door, looking down at his shoes to gather his composure. His voice has become lower, contained. "I'm weak to alcohol...so I'm afraid I'm an unpleasant drunk to be around. I never tried drugs myself, so I'm not quite sure if hearing voices would be expected. Huh, now that I think about it, you should probably not talk about illegal substances around me."

He's one of ACCA's finest, after all.