Uh huh, so. That must be weird for you? I'll help you if I can.

[By not explaining and by just slowly inching towards the open door so he won't have to watch Eliot pack up the clothes and walk out, leaving Quentin with just the memories. Again.]

I can't really promise not to mess up your clothes if you leave it here. How about you just wrap it up in one of the sheets. You can look like a very well-dressed hobo and put it on a stick, but. Hey, Eliot? Where are you going to live?