The dim lighting does nothing to soften his expression. Archies lounges on the edge of the couch, sleeves rolled, tie undone, shirt still pristine—annoyingly so. He barely glances at you.

“Well, wasn’t that a charming dinner? Forced smiles, fake toasts, and a marriage contract nobody asked for.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“And whats with your look? It disgust me."