No, it's mine. [ He says it with almost prim indignation, then points at Archer's towel. ] And start cleanin' up your damn blood before it dries all over the floor, the wound's not that deep!

[ Is he being a bitch? Yes, but it's the middle of the night, and Archer is really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really annoying, so Ray feels like he's earned this bitchiness.

He gestures with his good arm toward Ellie, tone suddenly degrees more patient: ]

This is my wife Ellie, by the way. Don't ask me how it's supposed to work, but we didn't exactly do our own matchmakin' here.

[ Southern hospitality still demanded he make some kind of formal introduction, though. Ray kicks Archer lightly in the side. ]

Stop telling people that! [ To Ellie: ] Just ignore him, he's... delirious.