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[demonicmiracle]

Hey, it's Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.

Comments

[undiagnosed]

No, I'm... not. [yes, he is, and crowley has the read on him.] Yeah, you do look pretty awful.

[he takes a couple glasses out the cabinet, pouring a big one for himself then leaves the wine bottle on the edge for crowley to see to himself.]

Ultimate goal... [archer swirls the wine.] Tase the mayor.

[demonicmiracle]

That's 'cause some arsehole shot me.

[Wine is probably not a good idea, honestly, but he pours himself a reasonable sized glass anyway.]

I'd like to see that, though you'd probably end up being carted off and turned into a Stepford person.

[Worth it, perhaps.]

[undiagnosed]

You should be more careful around here. You never know who might shoot you again.

[or stab. funny how many people got stabby when he broke into their houses. wonder if they're all armed by now. probably, because archer managed to get a gun relatively quickly. as shitty and poorly made as it is. ugh. he misses his walther.]

God, because I need more holes drilled into my head and injected with Russian mind-control chips like I need more holes in my head and-- you get the idea.

[demonicmiracle]

Reckon that might just be you I gotta worry about.

[Everyone else is normal, Archer!! They don't shoot people for shits and giggles.]

You're about to tell me you've actually had a Russian mind control chip put in your head, aren't you?

[He's a demon from Hell, and Archer's life still manages to baffle him every day.]

[undiagnosed]

Just once. It's complicated. [his dad might've been the leader of the KGB who wanted to mind control him into coming to russia for a paternity test... who then intended to kill him if archer wasn't his son. naturally, archer doesn't say any of this.] Jesus, go outside for once in your life. You barely know shit.