You are, however, obnoxiously British.

[though not enough to remind him of woodhouse, god help archer's fragile psyche if he ever meets aziraphale and his received pronunciation.

archer lowers the gun and moves aside so crowley can get past.] Go ahead. I just needed to get that straight.

[...]

Or, well, you know. Gay. Am I right? [he snorts at his own stupid joke, then closes the door. when he speaks again, it's more muttering to himself:] These people better have tequila...