Teagan and Archer and Open (Late and only partially fashionable)
Only slightly bemused, Archer accepted the bag that had been thrust into his hands and held it open as instructed. He enjoyed immensely the way that Teagan was approaching her task, up to and including her offering him as many of the little boxes as he wished... and then confessing they were candy corn.
He remembered last year's Halloween all too well, the real pumpkin that made up Teagan's costume. Personally, Archer thought that the myconid's costume had been pretty fucking entertaining, wished he'd had one of those disposable cameras handy to capture the looks on other party-goers faces. Especially once the fruit flies made their presence known. He'd kept his mirth bottled up -- very much the way he did many of his stronger emotions -- until after the party was over and he'd shooed away cleaning staff members to other chores. Only then, in the empty room, had Archer given into laughter. Loud and long laughter. Not at Teagan, per se, but at the reaction she'd had the ability to produce. Life at the Door was never fucking boring, that much was for sure.
When she paused, Archer knew her well enough to know it was for his reaction and, relaxed, there was nothing to keep the humor out of his eyes or the somewhat conspiratorial grin off of his face. "So you're sorta reverse trick-or-treating?" he asked, clearly amused. "Good holiday choice, then." Archer wouldn't get all the way to any subversive statements without an explanation, but he enjoyed the change-up just the same.
He waited out her pause to think of what to say next, but didn't immediately connect the dots that they'd gone from talking about her costume to his (or the lack thereof). "Normal? As fucking normal as I ever am, T," was Archer's somewhat confused confirmation. He knew she wasn't upset or anything by the air around them. Though he knew nothing about that chemical composition shit, the extra oxygen in the air was just a hint like how it felt to take a breath just as he'd put his hands on someone with the intent to induce a euphoric state. So it never struck him as a bad reaction when the air went sweet around Teagan.
But he thought on it a second more and finally got it, what she'd meant. "Oh-- nah, no costume," said Archer, looking down at his black short-sleeved work shirt and pants. Though he sometimes wore a suit, especially if he was needed around certain VIP clients -- or if someone specific was in need of a bodyguard-type figure -- Archer tended to dress in a fairly utilitarian way for duty. Pockets to carry certain tools (or weapons) without being obvious about it were a must. He had a pager and a two-way radio clipped to his belt. He'd worn black today because he'd walked the main floor and stayed close to the front door while Marcus was away; people tended to expect the bouncer-type to dress in black or some shit like that.
"Just came to the party as me," Archer ended simply, in his straightforward quiet way, without any trace of the gruffness that sometimes appeared around the clients and always appeared when he was worried. He paused and added, "That okay?" And maybe years ago he wouldn't have asked that, would've said he didn't care. But Archer did care about these people here... not just about their safety but about their ideas, their opinions. The chances of him scrounging up a costume now was nil. But he'd likely file away the reaction for next year.