handycapable | IC CONTACT.

Wh-- [ Ray takes a breath, like he's trying to not rise to the bait. ] First of all, Archer, I do not ugly cry, and no, I wouldn't, because I'm not the one who's at least 50% responsible for turnin' the place into a hostile work environment! Believe it or not, people like around the office.

[ Besides Mrs. Archer, and sometimes Cheryl. And often Archer. And-- well, never mind all that. Ray sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. ]

Okay, well. Since we're stuck here. [ He lets out a breath, slightly relieved. Archer is a wildcard sometimes, Ray isn't always good at detecting his jokes from his serious impending rampages. ] I guess we'll need a plan.

I didn't exactly hold a gun to your head and force-feed you sugary bullshit, Ray. I don't think. I mean, maybe I did, but that seems kind of weird even for me.

[blame shifting, as always, though he does genuinely not think he's responsible for the behaviour of adults.]

Well, I haven't given my real name. Are you going by Phil McCraken again? You should. Rando and Phil ride again! Team Archer, bitch!

I didn't mean-- [ Another sigh. ] Never mind.

[ No point in talking about the office right now, and Ray would really rather not get into coma o'clock either at the moment, which is absolutely an entire minefield on its own he just doesn't currently have the energy for. ]

No, I... look, Archer, we don't even know what we're doin' here in the first place, so if anyone's actually out there lookin' for us right now, then I for one don't plan on bein' any more difficult to find than we probably already are. [ He pauses, then smirks mildly. ] Which one is it this time, Rando or Randy?

[it's nice and warm in here, along with the low droning of the tv and the relative comfort of the armchair, archer's starting to get a little hazy where he's sitting.]

I guess... if it's actually 1961 somehow then we just gotta wait a couple months until they invent sat phones. Then get one and call the agency which... [he closes his eyes for a moment.] ...I mean, we didn't fucking time travel. That's stupid. Shut up, Ray.

[archer pulls himself forward a little to shoot ray a tired glare.]

It's actually Randy. Shit, I should go back to Chet sometime. Or... think I could pull off Lando Calrissiano again?

[ Of course Archer would know when sat phones were invented. Ray doesn't even know that, but of course Archer would... somehow he always knows the most random shit ever, and somehow it always ends up being actually useful to the situation. ]

I never said we time traveled! Although... [ No, wait. That is stupid. Like it just makes no sense, but: ] I mean, do we know that isn't a possibility?

[ After all, stranger things -- or, okay, at least as strange -- have happened to them, right? So who's to say? ]

Cuz if it is, then we actually predate Star Wars by about fifteen, twenty years.

Beeeecause... time travel isn't real? This is probably just like one of those... really detailed sets they have at Universal or Disney Land or whatever.

[archer likes to think - as weird as things have happened to them - most of them have logical reasons and aren't just because. like, even barry and the whole space thing made sense and had a backstory.]

We could reinvent the lava lamp. Make millions. [finally, he lets his eyes slip closed a he grins to himself at the idea.] Or Facebook.

What, like a movie set? Candid Camera?

[ Ray's tone drops again dryly, although it isn't purely sarcasm, because that theory is no more far-fetched (rather less, in fact) than any of their others so far. He sighs slowly, watching Archer begin to drift, wondering if it's worth it to kick him out right now or just... tolerate it. They've both been through a lot already in their brief time here, and Ray also knows how exhausting it is to push yourself on damaged legs. ]

Anyway, you wouldn't know where to begin inventin' Facebook. Do you even own a computer? [ He's seriously asking. ] Archer.

[ Just to get his attention, in case he's falling asleep. Ray leans over him slightly. ]

Just know that you are not staying the night.

[ AKA, you can nap for now if you really need it, but-- ]

It's the perfect set up for one, isn't it? Though I haven't found any cameras... maybe they're those really small ones.

[he doesn't answer the computer question- of course he doesn't for reasons that should be obvious if one was present for a certain discussion of online porn which... ray wasn't. it's got to the point where his head almost falls forward until ray wakes him up. seems like archer pulls himself out of it with some difficulty - he must've slept about five hours total in the week or so they've been here, occupied with all the things everyone else has been.

he tries to glare up at ray, but it's half-hearted.]

Ugh, like I'd want to stay here. Just... give me a minute.

I mean...

[ Yeah, honestly, it would be pretty perfect, and Ray has even discussed this theory before with Crowley -- neither was fully convinced, of course, but it's also not like they've come up with anything better -- although somehow the idea that there could be hidden cameras everywhere, including in their houses, is more disturbing than anything else they've considered so far.

Still, being on TV wouldn't be so bad.

He sighs again, loudly and exasperated, but pulls the quilt hanging over the back of the couch down over Archer. ]

Mm-hmm.

[ It's that slow, affected, sassy type of drawl that telegraphs I'll believe it when I see it, but also that he has no immediate intention of doing anything about it either. ]

All I know is that you'd better not still be here when Ellie gets home, cuz I'm not gonna be the one to stop her stabbin' you again. And I don't...

[ He doesn't want her assuming anything, uh... inappropriate...? ]

You can explain it.

God, if this is TV then I better get nationally famous for my repeated failed attempts at cooking. I microwaved an egg because I, uh. Forgot.

[he's a way from poaching one, that's for damn sure. he did pretty well in lance casteau's restaurant, but that was with strong direction and a chain smoking asshole screaming at him every five seconds. it's not as easy, he finds, when he's doing it on his own and refuses to read any recipe books out of spite.]

Explain what? How we obviously had several hours of wild sex right in her main room? [he snorts as he shifts, getting comfy under the quilt. ugh. stupid ray and his stupid southern hospitality making it hard to be a total bitch.] Whatever, Ray. If she stabs me this time when I'm not breaking in and actually clearly already a known guest I will actually... well, I don't know. I don't feel comfortable stabbing her back and I'd rather not call the cops. Shut up. I'll work something out.

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