No, but they pulled their guns. I'm many things, but I'm not bulletproof.

[yet?

nah, he'd have to be barry to be that. god, fucking barry. having everything archer doesn't at the cost of being a gross cyborg. is it truly worth it? archer doesn't know, but he knows he fucking hates his nerve damage and feeling like a worthless cripple that can't even run for long and needs a goddamn disabled parking spot--

he throws back the glass of scotch he's been nursing on the table, wishing it was stronger. everclear, maybe? what's stronger than everclear?

anyway.]

I mean... crazy hot chick like you, someone's gonna see the absence, right?