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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Festy_Dog" data-source="post: 4006334" data-attributes="member: 2561">Archer ran a hand over his face, then shook his head. Not in response to Nice's statement, but seemingly from frustration. He didn't utter a word, instead pacing back and forth and analyzing each empty cell until he found one that for whatever indescribable reason seemed better than the rest, as much as it seemed identical to every other.However inwardly, Archer shuddered. This micro-prison was too much like the damn place he'd been locked in for... he still wasn't sure how long he spent in there. He was reminded of more than he'd care to remember by standing there. He wanted out, but the damn driver had already taken off? He thought he would have heard him leave but it was a moot point anyway. The desire to start backing out of the room was rapidly stifled, as he focused solely on putting up his usually detached and calm demeanor. Showing weakness wouldn't bring Archer special treatment in a society of predators. Not by a long shot.His options were limited. Limited, in fact, to the number of unoccupied cells in the room. It appeared Nice had the impression Archer wanted to do a runner. Archer just wanted to return to his slightly more humane accommodations. Even including recent renovations made personally by LB, it was still preferable to a coffin sized cage. Did Nice really think that Archer would willingly take on someone who had at least forty more years of experience (probably more) at this than he did? They had already scuffled once before, and Archer wasn't eager for a rematch. But neither did he want a bout of post-traumatic stress disorder. Perhaps the bars would serve a purpose after all.He sat in the back of the cell, took a deep breath (not that it did anything), and tried to disconnect himself from his surroundings.</blockquote>

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