Poor life choices, [he says, straightening up and then burping into his fist.] and way too much grain alcohol.
[archer tentatively stands up - vasiliy can likely easily tell one of his legs doesn't take weight anywhere near as well as the other and it's not from anything that happened in the house.]
Why the Hell are you here?
[russian... military? in some ass-backwards town in the US? colour him curious.]
no subject
[archer tentatively stands up - vasiliy can likely easily tell one of his legs doesn't take weight anywhere near as well as the other and it's not from anything that happened in the house.]
Why the Hell are you here?
[russian... military? in some ass-backwards town in the US? colour him curious.]