Even with Cole's aid, Archer huffed and puffed the whole way to the makeshift grave. By the time they reached the bare patch of ground, he was concerned that his arms might fall off at any second. Dropping his side of the body without any ceremony or respect, he leaned forward to rest against his knees. His breaths came out ragged and shallow, and for a moment, he didn't realize that Cole's words were spoken to him.
"Yes," he panted, looking up at the other man with a red, sweaty face that slid through exhaustion and irritation before settling into a blank wall of nothing. "I'll stay with the body while you obtain the shovel and portrait." Not even trying to hide his physical weakness, he fell to the ground, rubbing his sleeve over his brow in an attempt to mop up some of the sweat that had collected there.