luke-

[eaglehawkdovetheory]

[ Holly already knows this isn't going to go well. He's a lot more emotionally stable than Archer is, and he's still not sure how he feels about the whole thing, about the forty-someodd years he's just been absent for and the ignorance Malory kept him in and how much better Archer might have turned out if he'd been present. He can't imagine how his apparent son's about to feel about the whole thing, but he knows it's going to be bad, which is why he's here, in the park, on a day much too cold for anyone else to be around, even in New York City.

He has the feeling it's about to be... violent, or something, probably, not necessarily on the level of Luke-I-Am-Your-Father but... close. Enough for him to glance at his watch every few minutes, too much for him to feel remotely at ease. He considers leaving a few times, calling it off—it's too late now, and it's probably not even going to benefit Archer to know, the cowardly voice in the back of his head urges—but decides against it every time, because the right thing to do is tell him no matter what ends up coming of it and Lord knows Malory never will and he deserves to hear it from... his father, not that freak Kraut.

When Archer shows up, he's amazed that he didn't see it sooner. It's like looking at an old photo of himself: the nose, the eyes, the cleft chin, the high, chiseled cheekbones. His son. That's his other son, and for a few more minutes, he's going to remain blissfully unaware of it. ]

Mr. Archer.

[ He sticks with that, because shared genetic material aside, they're not close. At all. ]

You should sit.

Comments

[undiagnosed]

[perhaps predictably, archer shows up half-drunk, holding a paper cup from starbucks with the plastic lid missing, steam spilling out into the cold and and carrying with it the distinct smell of kind of alcohol. bourbon, probably, maybe whiskey.

he has absolutely no idea what's about to happen and honestly finds it extremely suspect. he doesn't sit down, opting instead to stand a little ways to holly's side.]

You should tell the CIA sniper up on that building he has shitty positioning. I can see the glint off his scope from here.

[he's... kind of joking in the sense that there's not actually anyone up there, but kind of not in the way that he's expecting something awful to happen. why the hell would this weirdo want to see him alone, other than to brag about being some kind of weird eagle man more? god, it's going to be so embarrassing if he gets shot in central park.]

What, Tweedledick? What do you want?