Eliot's whole body tenses at a sudden sound, thinking it has to be the one he was waiting for, the sound of the brackets popping free from the brick and the whole rust-and-bullshit-and-prayers fire escape yawning down into the space between buildings like a loose tooth. But it's not, it's the sound of coughing. His eyes are stinging from the heat and the ash, he blinks them clear to track the sound. The guy from the alley.

He didn't leave after all, he's right there and-

"Hey," he calls out, his voice completely demolished by smoke and the exertion of clinging to the ladder. One foot dangles down below him. The leg of his slacks is singed. He hauls himself back up a step, tries again. "Hey, I thought you left," inappropriately casual. He laughs, it turns into a dry hack.

- maybe he's going to get out of this after all. He hates the desperate feeling fluttering in his chest.

Coughing makes everything spin a little. He waits for it to stop before he hauls himself up another rung, throws the top half of his body across the grate once he can reach it, slotting his fingers through like claws. He crawls toward the figure. His hands don't sting so much anymore but he's not sure that's a great thing.

"No offense, but-" he curls in on himself, choking, drags himself half-upright against the brick, "What the fuck are you doing?"