Proven wrong, Archer just huffs and takes another gulp of her smoothie.

"Whatever, I bet he's not a world-class spy..." he mutters, maybe a little jealous. The description doesn't really narrow the possible candidates down, in Archer's mind, though naturally he only thinks of those he's met who're tall. Handsome and wall of muscle, pssh. Can't look for himself.

"We were missing. What the hell are you talking about?" he asks, leaning back in the stiff leather booth chair and grimacing. "We're not boned, Pam. It's kind of nice to get away for a moment, actually. Even if it is in some shitty backwards town."