tacticalturtleneck | IC Contact

[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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

herotypical

Tomorrow. Nine am. Castle armoury. I'm guessing you've at least figured out where it by now, right? [ huff why does she bother with these losers. except at least these losers creep her out less than the rest of caer scima. ]

Be there or be -- quite possibly -- square.

From:

tacticalturtleneck

Who the hell do you think I am? This body is nowhere near being square.

[Which means he'll be there.]

9, got it.

From:

herotypical

[ and so (with a little help from our good friends movie magic and the almighty timeskip, the sharpish hour of nine am rolls around on the next day. and buffy (an utter non-fan of the frou-frou dresses and distinct lack of denim in the castle's closets) is decked out in swag she got from the station a while back. decent jeans, for one. a superhero-ish kinda gal can't live without decent jeans.

she's unarmed, except for a mug of what she hopes is very strong coffee cradled in her palms. except it's not coffee at all: more like a stiff and murky tea. but beggars, it seems, cannot be choosers. except they can at least be complainers. ] Oh my God, where did they get these mugs? The local runner-up craft fair for potters who just couldn't quite make the cut?

[ buffy is mumbling. mostly to herself. she stops just outside the armoury and takes a fortifying glug before shouldering open the metal door. ]

From:

tacticalturtleneck

[The moment she walks in, she's greeted with a glass shattering sound. Mostly from behind her since she's walking in already.

That sound was Archer falling over and his unmarked bottle of alcohol hitting the ground. Of course, he sounds like someone who is dead drunk.]

Oh god, you said niiiiiiiiiiiiine!

From:

herotypical

[ she stiffens: kinda like an animal caught in headlights. every muscle tightens and she whips 'round, almost as though she expects the worst...

oh, it's so much worser than the worst. buffy grimaces. ] Y-yeah. And it's -- [ she checks her watch; remembers it's digital; whispers a mild oath. ] Gotta be, what? At minimum ten after nine. I'm not that late...

[ oh the wave of booze-stench just hit her. her grimace deepens. ]

From:

tacticalturtleneck

I've been here for twelve goddamn hours, waiting!

[He's double the fool. Not only did he not listen, he actually stood around and waited that long.]

The only thing to do was drink!

From:

herotypical

Twelve ho-- [ her eyes bug out, but then realization settles on that sweet blonde head of hers. buffy crosses her arms sharply across her chest. ] Yeah. Is this a common problem with you? Mixing up your AMs and your PMs?

[ she'll get to the DRINKING in a moment god. ]

From:

tacticalturtleneck

PMs? [He lets it wrack through his head a bit.] No, I don't have P-M-S! Do I look like an old woman to you? Did someone call me Mrs. Archer at some point because if they did, they're dead! [HICCUP.]

From:

herotypical

God help us, there's a Missus Archer?

[ danger danger. she assumes he's referring to a wife. that poor woman. ]

From:

tacticalturtleneck

That would be....my mother. The devil spawn of Satan himself.

[Oh god, why did that have to be brought up.]

Look, just give me some of that coffee.

[Or punch him in the face. That also works for sobering up.]

From:

herotypical

[ she peers into her mug -- eyes the murky and ultimately unappetizing tea that has been in no way shape or form an adequate coffee replacement -- and shrugs. handing it over to him is just about the easiest thing she's ever done. ]

So does that make you Satan's grandson? 'Cause there are some people who would consider that at least mildly bitchin'.

From:

tacticalturtleneck

[He downs the drink in one go. It's hot and tastes nothing like he expected in taste so Archer kind of chokes on it. It's enough to sober him up, at least.]

If it would get you to sleep with me, sure.

[Absolutely shameless but he's not hiding it.]

Jesus, that was really foul, though. What the heck was that? Anti-ethanol?

From:

herotypical

[ this face. forever and ever and ever. ]

From:

herotypical

God if I know. Makeshift medieval tea? They probably brewed it with sticks and stones that once sat somewhere kinda-near a decent tea...plant. Tea comes from plants, right? I feel like I saw that once on a Nat-Geo documentary.

[ .. ] Okay, more like the commercial for Nat-Geo documentary. But you get what I'm saying.

From:

tacticalturtleneck

Like stone soup but even shittier?

[Emphasis on the shittier part if he's already back to normal.]

What if it's marijuana tea?

From:

herotypical

Marijuana tea.

[ a pause. ] Do I look like I peddle drugs?

From:

tacticalturtleneck

You could be from Colorado or Washington or Oregon or whatever. It's hard to tell those north-western states apart.

Seriously, that stuff is kind of legal in some states.

From:

herotypical

California.

[ she crosses her arms -- almost as though to say isn't it obvious? ]

From:

tacticalturtleneck

HAHAHAHA OH MY GOD! You're a Valley Girl!!!

From:

herotypical

Once upon a time.

[ she did indeed literally live in the valley. once. but then dad cheated on mom and -- well. the rest of that story requires a stiff drink and all the good stuff is still currently pooling at her feet. ]

From:

tacticalturtleneck

This.

Changes.

Everything.

From:

herotypical

But does it? Does it really?

[ she knows it does. she might just revel in it for a moment longer. she likes it when they underestimate her. ]

From:

tacticalturtleneck

Well, duh. It gives me a whole new pool of sick burns to nail you with.

Figuratively, not literally.

From:

herotypical

You'll find I don't burn so easily.

[ except she's huffing. again. and turning away so she might venture feet deeper into this creepy old armoury. god, she needs a sword in her hand. stat. ]