"Sounds like an asswipe," Archer comments blithely, finally sliding the milkshake over the table back to Pam. Oh, yes, that sugary monstrosity hit a certain spot. Would be better with some rum in it, though. He doesn't have any on hand. Tragedy.

Archer rests his fist on his chin in thought, though his thick brows pinch at the mention of robots.

"Uh, yeah, because robo-me went so well last time, right?" He does wonder what happened to those things, though. Krieger probably still has them. Creepy bastard. "Seriously? Ugh, it's better when the creepiness doesn't make itself apparent. Are you gonna do it anyway? You should do it anyway."