Archer wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with a splitting headache and someone he’s never seen before in bed next to him. Oh, and he’s wearing a ring. That probably means something, but he’s too distracted to figure it out right now. He manages to get up–pulling all the blankets off you in the process, of course–and stumble to the bathroom.

While he’s retching in the other room, little snippets of the night before slowly begin to return to him. Holiday bonuses. A casino. Lots of drinks that were far too expensive to taste that cheap. Someone to share a room with. A priest?

He lifts his head and stares at the ring, his sluggish brain finally catching up. It’s a wedding ring. An expensive one, by the looks of it. He has a vague recollection of asking around for an officiant, finding some performer dressed like a priest who had gone through the technical training for it, and… Damn. His muffled curses from inside the small bathroom wake you up.

By the time you open your bleary eyes and blink the throbbing headache out of the front of your skull, Archer has already started helping himself to the complimentary alcohol cabinet in the corner of the room. He pours himself a glass of the first bottle he sees.

“Okay, so,” he says, pausing to down the entire drink before continuing, “I know this is sudden, but how do you feel about divorce?”