As Sam entered the bar, Archer glanced up, watching him sit. The greeting made him frown. "I apologize," he said, glancing down at the table. "I didn't think to prepare my appearance for a formal outing." There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm in his voice, nothing at all to suggest that he was responding in any way other than apologetically.
"Yes, I believe that is a good plan." The waitress approached and they ordered a round of shots. Archer wasn't well-versed in the ways of alcohol. After all, he had little use for partying when there was science to do. But this was a special time. He had something he wanted to forget. "Your gait was awkward," he said, looking over at Sam. "What happened?"