have a lotta dialogue from some strangers who got beat up, for once not by each other. do i ever write things not at midnight? who knows.

The guy sitting next to Archer in the 24-hour minor emergency clinic makes an irritated "fft" noise, the whistle ruined by the fact that it caused blood to bubble from his nicely cut lip. Archer takes this as an acceptable moment to start speaking, if only to stave off the fact that they're the only two people in the lobby actually waiting for someone to pick them up as opposed to someone in a room to come out. And for the fact that Archer's still rather buzzed, which makes him slightly more sociable.

"So," (and here the guy sitting next to him starts and turns to face Archer, blinking teal eyes in confusion), "is there an 'other guy', or did you just do this to yourself?"

There's a pause, before the guy straight up giggles (it's more harsh and raspy than a real giggle, but it applies). "Naaaah, there's another guy. He left first, 'cause the poor fucker needed stitches. I just got this." He gestures at his face, which is complete with a mostly-closed-by-now cut lip, a dark bruise on his cheekbone, and a patch of hair that's been bloodied (oddly Christmassy, Archer thinks, in a very macabre sense. Green and red). Thought it could have been someone else's blood. "People at Jackalope ain't too friendly," the stranger continues.

That makes Archer laugh, as apparently he's not the only one who's been kicked out of Fine Drinking Establishments tonight. "It just doesn't seem like a good night to avoid altercations."

"What sorta drunk idiot with a broken nose uses words like altercation."

"I do, excuse you. And I'm hardly drunk. What kind of idiot goes drinking on 6th?"

A mocking tone. "I do, excuse you."

There's another couple seconds of silence, which mainly feature the green-haired stranger staring at Archer ponderously, kicking his feet against his chair like a bored six-year-old. "How 'bout you, huh? Your other guy."

Archer hummed. "I knocked him over and Ariana dragged me off and yelled at me until I went to a doctor to check the setting of my nose."

The guy next to him does the weird giggling thing again. "Awh, you're the worst off."

"Shush."

Archer just gets a cheeky grin in return, followed almost immediately by 'fuck, ow!' and a hand quickly covering the lip wound that just reopened. Archer tsks.

The guy glares at him. "Shaddup, Blue's Clues."

Another pause, this time couple with a bewildered expression from Archer. "What did you just call me?"

"Blue's Clues. 'Cos the hair." The stranger's voice is still muffled, as he's got the back of one hand pressed against his lip in an ineffective effort to stop bleeding.

"My names Archer, thanks. And if you stop talking, you'll stop bleeding."

"Cool. 'M Proton."

"That's your real name?"

"Nnnnope."

Archer shrugs and accepts it. Proton eventually accepts his invitation to shut up for the sake of bodily integrity, and soon enough pulls out a phone and starts typing.

As soon as his lip isn't adding more blood than necessary to the conversation, Proton starts speaking again. The guy does not like silence, apparently. He and Archer encompass a broad and often seemingly random series of topics until Proton's phone beeps and he looks at the door. All that's visible in the dark is the vague shape of a person with the light of a cigarette around their mouth. Proton makes a quiet 'whoops' and turns back to Archer, holding his phone out expectantly.

Archer raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"You aren't total shit to talk to and you're probably gonna be alright to go hang out with. Put your number in the thing."

"Not even a please?"

Proton sighs, sounding very world-weary. "Please?"

Archer smiles crookedly and does as requested. Mostly, he thinks he just likes irritating this guy. Proton, however, just seems satisfied with himself as he pockets the phone and stands. Exactly in time for the visitor from outside to step inside, cigarette extinguished by now, and stand next to Proton. "C'mon, kid, visitor hour's over." He nods briefly to Archer and Proton grumbles inaudibly, walking off with his (presumable) ride.

Ariana drives Archer back home a couple minutes later, and maybe fifteen minutes after Archer's gotten back home (and his small collection of Dobermans have attempted to bowl him over in enthusiasm) his phone starts buzzing.

[unknown number]: eeeeey
[unknown number]: its ur fav hospital buddy
[unknown number]: did u even make it out or are u gonna be sleepin there?

Well.
Someone's impatient.
Archer smiles to himself.
Yes, this one will be fun to know.