a. [full disclosure: this is not the first time archer has woken up in a strange place with no memory of how he got there. he barely remembers the nightmare of the child calling out for help thanks to the beginnings of a painful hangover forming, which... honestly is for the best. his reaction is already poor enough without him thinking his own kid is in danger.
he doesn't stay in the bedroom long when he regains consciousness regardless of what the unfortunate person stuck in there with him does or says. he staggers downstairs, mostly ignoring anything they might say to him with any responses being non-committal grunts or irritable dismissals, searching through the cabinets with purpose until... ah! a bottle of whiskey. it's not a 60s house without one of those, is it? archer pours himself a drink and leans back against the counter, finally giving his surroundings his full attention.]
So, you're gonna give me back my tactlecane or I'm gonna start breaking bones, [he calls out, not particularly at the other members of the house but not not at them.] just, you know, a polite heads up!
b. [once he's ascertained the "family" he's with are in the same odd situation as him (as sick to his stomach as even having a pretend family makes him, for many reasons he couldn't even begin to list off), archer isn't as rude or frosty with them. the kids, especially.
he's actually kind of an alright fake-dad, despite his abrasive personality. he makes sure the younger members of the household have food, though doesn't really disclose how he gets the money or the food objects themselves other than the fact they owe him for this. you know, the rare times he's even at the house.
when the neighbors start accosting them at their front door and he has to wonder if they spotted him doing recon or the odd time he broke into one of their houses in the middle of the night to try and find answers. passive-aggressive aspic is kind of a weird way of showing it, but he wouldn't put it past these freaks.
the husband from next door doesn't even get through aunt myrna's name before archer slaps the gelatin out of his hands hard enough to shatter the glass container he'd brought it in against the ground.]
Fuck. Off. [and then the door is slammed in the poor guy's face. how rude!]
put on a happy face
[then it's been a month and halloween has rolled around and archer is still in this goddamn down in california and he hates halloween--
congratulations! archer was not at home when the broadcast hit the tvs and the creepy kids appeared, so you win the lucky draw of him either attempting to kick your front door down (which he fails, thanks to the nerve damage) or using his cane to smash your window and climb in.]
Hey, so, hey. There's, uh, zombie children out there? I just need a moment to-- you know. Regroup. Thanks. Don't touch me.
[he mutters something about likely being in a coma again, then pulls a pistol from his jacket and loads it. looks like someone's been shopping down town! he takes a position against the wall, peering out one of the front windows. he has a couple of lacerations across his arms and he's bleeding from somewhere above his hairline, but he doesn't seem to care about it.]
Guess I know how the Torrances felt...
wildcard
[CUT THE BRAKES BABY YOU KNOW HOW THIS WORKS!!!!!!!]
archer / archer / hit me up fam
a. [full disclosure: this is not the first time archer has woken up in a strange place with no memory of how he got there. he barely remembers the nightmare of the child calling out for help thanks to the beginnings of a painful hangover forming, which... honestly is for the best. his reaction is already poor enough without him thinking his own kid is in danger.
he doesn't stay in the bedroom long when he regains consciousness regardless of what the unfortunate person stuck in there with him does or says. he staggers downstairs, mostly ignoring anything they might say to him with any responses being non-committal grunts or irritable dismissals, searching through the cabinets with purpose until... ah! a bottle of whiskey. it's not a 60s house without one of those, is it? archer pours himself a drink and leans back against the counter, finally giving his surroundings his full attention.]
So, you're gonna give me back my tactlecane or I'm gonna start breaking bones, [he calls out, not particularly at the other members of the house but not not at them.] just, you know, a polite heads up!
b. [once he's ascertained the "family" he's with are in the same odd situation as him (as sick to his stomach as even having a pretend family makes him, for many reasons he couldn't even begin to list off), archer isn't as rude or frosty with them. the kids, especially.
he's actually kind of an alright fake-dad, despite his abrasive personality. he makes sure the younger members of the household have food, though doesn't really disclose how he gets the money or the food objects themselves other than the fact they owe him for this. you know, the rare times he's even at the house.
when the neighbors start accosting them at their front door and he has to wonder if they spotted him doing recon or the odd time he broke into one of their houses in the middle of the night to try and find answers. passive-aggressive aspic is kind of a weird way of showing it, but he wouldn't put it past these freaks.
the husband from next door doesn't even get through aunt myrna's name before archer slaps the gelatin out of his hands hard enough to shatter the glass container he'd brought it in against the ground.]
Fuck. Off. [and then the door is slammed in the poor guy's face. how rude!]
put on a happy face
[then it's been a month and halloween has rolled around and archer is still in this goddamn down in california and he hates halloween--
congratulations! archer was not at home when the broadcast hit the tvs and the creepy kids appeared, so you win the lucky draw of him either attempting to kick your front door down (which he fails, thanks to the nerve damage) or using his cane to smash your window and climb in.]
Hey, so, hey. There's, uh, zombie children out there? I just need a moment to-- you know. Regroup. Thanks. Don't touch me.
[he mutters something about likely being in a coma again, then pulls a pistol from his jacket and loads it. looks like someone's been shopping down town! he takes a position against the wall, peering out one of the front windows. he has a couple of lacerations across his arms and he's bleeding from somewhere above his hairline, but he doesn't seem to care about it.]
Guess I know how the Torrances felt...
wildcard
[CUT THE BRAKES BABY YOU KNOW HOW THIS WORKS!!!!!!!]