[he makes a non-committal grunt at that, seemingly not at all interested in barry's further existence in his room.
and that's that! it doesn't really lend well to archer's slowly strengthening belief that he never actually woke up from his coma for barry to respect boundaries like that (space comes to mind, and he belatedly wonders if barry ever actually would've killed him - he seemed to like the chase too much) and without argument.
archer does what archer does best when he is left to his own devices: he drinks. he... makes a new voicemail prank, too, but mostly just drinks. the night comes and starts to go and archer gets to the point where all logical thought evaporated a long time ago.
he finds himself lonely and unwilling to lower himself to going and knocking on barry's door.
with difficulty - mostly due to his intoxication and less due to the lack of light; the sun is starting to peek over the horizon - archer clambers out of the big window in the bedroom and shimmies along the stone guttering to the room next to his. he has no idea if it's the right one and absolutely doesn't have the mental capacity to care. he pulls the window frame open and falls in face-first, springing up with surprising agility. he's numb to the pain of his nerve damage right now, anyway.]
Where did... [he leans on the small dresser by the window to steady himself, floorboards creaking under the heavy combat boots he still has on.] shit! Is this even the right... floor?
no subject
and that's that! it doesn't really lend well to archer's slowly strengthening belief that he never actually woke up from his coma for barry to respect boundaries like that (space comes to mind, and he belatedly wonders if barry ever actually would've killed him - he seemed to like the chase too much) and without argument.
archer does what archer does best when he is left to his own devices: he drinks. he... makes a new voicemail prank, too, but mostly just drinks. the night comes and starts to go and archer gets to the point where all logical thought evaporated a long time ago.
he finds himself lonely and unwilling to lower himself to going and knocking on barry's door.
with difficulty - mostly due to his intoxication and less due to the lack of light; the sun is starting to peek over the horizon - archer clambers out of the big window in the bedroom and shimmies along the stone guttering to the room next to his. he has no idea if it's the right one and absolutely doesn't have the mental capacity to care. he pulls the window frame open and falls in face-first, springing up with surprising agility. he's numb to the pain of his nerve damage right now, anyway.]
Where did... [he leans on the small dresser by the window to steady himself, floorboards creaking under the heavy combat boots he still has on.] shit! Is this even the right... floor?