Placidly listening to Graham's bluster, Archer gave the genius an assessing look to see that he was actually okay. When the damage done wasn't more than a slightly soggy Nutri-Grain bar -- which, given how old it probably was, had to be an improvement -- the set of the chief's shoulders relaxed fractionally. He'd gotten used to Graham's complaining; it wasn't so different from how Bran would go on now and again. When he was with just one of them at a time, it was easily handled. A quiet guy, Archer was comfortable around people who talked, even if part of that talking was fretful. He took the good with the bad in all of the folks he'd come to call friends.
Just the same, he was glad this morning that it was just one of them -- Graham or Brannon -- rather than having to deal with both. They were a lot alike, which was part of the reason Archer got along so well with Graham in the first place. Together, they could be a toxic mix of annoyance that Archer was finding himself having less and less patience for since becoming chief.
Speaking of, Graham's question brought the faintest of frowns to Archer's face, there and gone again after he took another sip of his drink and set it on the overlook wall in front of them. He looked out at the clouds rolling in. "Been a while since we've had rain," allowed Archer, answering Graham's first thought and letting the question ride a few seconds before replying, "It's another busy day. Morning's in-house. Go next door." Next door was the prison, formerly the La Quinta Inn. "Before noon, though, heading out. Hopefully. Have a few things I'd like to tackle outside." Archer made a vague motion off the roof, outside their shelter and to the twisted hulk of a city he could still recognize if he put enough effort into it.
"What d'you have on deck for today?" he parried back. Which was as good a sign as any that he considered Graham a friend, giving him more than the bare minimum of his words, a thoughtful response, and an honestly curious question.