The native she'd grabbed was just opening his mouth to speak when he saw something over her shoulder. A second later, he was being shoved away from her by someone else's hand -- a very tall, curly-haired someone, who spoke as he moved with a firm, resolute tone:

"Get your filthy arm out of her hand."

The native balked. "She grabbed me!"

"Beat it," Eliot spat out, and gave the man another push.

The native backed off and slumped away, muttering, "Asshole." Eliot had already stopped paying attention to him.

"Mar..." As he turned, his eyes took in the crown, then traveled downward to really see the rest of her outfit. His eyebrows shot upwards. "...go. Wow. Holy Game of Thrones. What are you wearing?"

The surprise was the only thing stopping him from hugging her right this second. God, it was so good to see her.