IC Contact

[tacticalturtleneck]

[Pick your poison.]


1. Hey, this is Archer. How are you doing? [A pause.] Great, glad to hear it! Also glad to hear you're talking to an automated message. HAHA, SUCKER! Leave one!

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2. Holy shit, did you just see that?! [Paaaaaaaause.] That was you falling for the answering machine trick again! God, when you are going to learn?

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3. Welcome to Ask Archer, where you can ask me what you want and I'll answer your question in public and embarrass you in front of everyone. Maybe you'll learn something. Leave it.

Comments

[tacticalturtleneck]

That's exactly what I said.

[Hefting said sword over his shoulder!]

We doing this or not?

[herotypical]

[ her eyes narrow. ]

I dunno. Are you sure you're -- [ oh, what's the use in asking whether he's ready? it's time to strap on her snowshoes and take that great horrible step into the way-too-chilly world beyond. ]

There's just one rule.

[tacticalturtleneck]

...the sex is saved for after?

[Might as well make sure.]

1/2

[herotypical]

[ WHY ME? buffy asks as she straightens her posture and spins a stake in her gloved palm. ]

2/2

[herotypical]

The moment we step out of this place and anywhere near a vamp nest? I'm the boss. You're gonna listen to me or you're gonna get killed. And not necessarily by the bloodsuckers.

[ she will slay you if you defy her, archer. except not really because gosh darnit he probably as a soul in there somewhere. ]

[tacticalturtleneck]

Da, I understand, Commissar Buffy. Be shot in the front or the back, my choice.

[herotypical]

[ it occurs to her to (perhaps) protest. but in the long run even wry obedience is a safer bet than hot-headed rebellion. so -- she lets it slide without further comment. ]

Well. Stab. I wouldn't -- I mean, I don't have a gun to shoot. I don't shoot guns. Now, crossbows on the other hand...

[ ok. almost without further comment. ] Damn. I should have packed a crossbow.

[tacticalturtleneck]

Fuck crossbows anyway. Longbows are better for about a million different reasons.

[Archer and weapons....

...well, it's like Buffy and weapons, really.]

Let's get out of here.

[herotypical]

But I like crossbows.

[ she answers, as though that's all the justification required. buffy considers the argument won (hah) and takes her first unwieldy step into the great blur of white. the blizzard conditions weren't inhabitable. not yet. but it wouldn't be a speedy hike down to the coastline. ]

The little rash of fishing shacks they call a village shouldn't be too far.

[tacticalturtleneck]

[While outside, Archer starts to yell at her. Whether he wants to be heard over the wind, has hearing problems himself, or just wants to yell....Buffy can figure that out herself.]

That doesn't mean they still don't suck!!!!

[Did she say something else reasonable? He couldn't hear her over her sucking. Which wasn't being done to him.]

[herotypical]

[ she is forced to raise her own voice high over the whip of wind and snow. barely five steps outside, and her cheeks are already pink. buffy's built for a lot of things, but winter isn't one of them. ]

So they're slow on the reload. I'll give you that much. But they're satisfying. Utterly satisfying.

[tacticalturtleneck]

PHRASING!

[It needed to be said. His laughter echoed as much as it could through the winter air while trudging on through himself.

God, he really wished for a pair of goggles right now.]

[herotypical]

What--?

[ she shouts back -- but only the winter winds know for certain whether she legitimately needed him to repeat himself, or if she was asking for a hell of an explanation. ]

[tacticalturtleneck]

I'm glad that something that shoots slender, tiny darts satisfies you! It really raises the bar!

[Pure sarcasm followed by more laughter. If that's what she actually wanted, she got it. And this sword was getting cold to the touch, even through gloves. How the hell did people do this.]

[herotypical]

I prefer to call them flying fatalities.

[tacticalturtleneck]

What are you, Top Gun?

[Hilarious, except not. More Danger Zone shit, probably.]

How far are we going, holy shit? I feel the shrinkage coming on already.

[herotypical]

[ what is she?

oh. so. okay. he's making a joke, but with them on their merry little way to dispatch some vamps? she might as well tell him: ] I'm the Slayer. Serious. No jokes about metal bands required. That is -- legitimately -- what I'm called.

The Slayer. [ ... ] Vampire Slayer. If you wanna be specific.

[tacticalturtleneck]

How the hell am I not supposed to make a metal joke when that name is so freaking metal!

[Just saying. It's a lot better than "Dutchess" fyi but Buffy never needs to find out about that.]

[herotypical]

[ oh no buffy so needs to find out about that. the end. ]

Ix-nay on the oke-jays. But flattery is always welcome.

[ yes do please tell her how metal she is. ]

[tacticalturtleneck]

What, do you have a ghost behind you who is going to haunt me if I do it? Serious question. And will flattery get me laid? Also serious.

[The last time he'll bring it up, he swears!!!!]

[herotypical]

-- Is that all you think about?

[tacticalturtleneck]

It's on my mind about 10% of the time.

[Pulling out a flask and taking a swig.]

Alcohol the other 90%.

[herotypical]

[ her pace actually slows now. deal with it. ]

How the hell do you ever get anything done? Ever?

[tacticalturtleneck]

If you would have read my books or watched my T.V. show, you'd know my secret is being drunk all the time.

[Shaking his head at this plebe who hasn't even experienced Archer culture.]

What's the freaking hold up?

[herotypical]

What's the--? [ huff. her breath clouds on the air. ] The hold-up is me realizing for the umpteenth time how very screwed this whole spire is.