Savannah x Archer ( x OPEN?) 3/3
Just managing to keep from sighing, Archer looked down at what Jenkins had given him. Hm. Liquor on the rocks, amber in color? Hard to tell in the light he was under now. Given that Jenkins knew his tastes -- but didn't just get him a beer, which frankly would have been preferred -- Archer had to guess a sort of whiskey, and he'd bet it was scotch. Or whatever had been scrounged up. The Capitol had more supplies than any other shelter but there were certain things that were harder to come by. Alcohol that wasn't capable of being distilled locally or hadn't been found in storage was rare. Then again, Rob had always been able to find anything Ads wanted. Probably not the greatest time to think about her again. Or him.
Taking a meditative sip of the drink -- there's no need to belt it back and go for another -- Archer looked adound to see if anyone had the pleasure of witnessing Jenkins' scolding commentary on his lack of party spirit or whatever -- and saw Savannah Posey keeping time to the music. She'd actually been quite close to him and he hadn't noticed, just standing there, a testament to how tired he is. He and Isaac have been pulling information together, and of course Archer is also trying to keep Ads in the loop. He'd had another case of texting while tired with her earlier in the day, though not quite as memorable as when he meant to type 'leading Austin' and instead input 'leaving Austin.' He'd blamed autocorrect. She hadn't been fooled.
Savannah seemed to be enjoying the music and he didn't want to intrude anymore than Jenkins already had, but she was standing beside him and Archer didn't wish to be rude. LBJ's split was extremely fresh in everybody's memory, was perhaps another reason for Olinger's party -- All this can be yours if you come back to the fold. -- but Archer was neither surprised by the announcement nor particularly angry. He'd liked Grayson Wolfe; they'd gotten along okay. Since his death, things had been tense... but that would imply things were all rainbows and fucking sparkles beforehand. Things between the Capitol and LBJ had been wrong for a while and Olinger did jack to try and reach out because he got fixated on his Hellhound chase. Archer had a serial killer to profile, a curfew to enforce, and a hundred other things on his plate, but the chief still wished he'd done better by the library and its denizens. The best he could do know was to accept the changes.
Hoping his expression wasn't quite as strong as usual, Archer, cap in his left hand and drink in his right, closed whatever distance remained between him and Savannah and greeted, "Hello. Enjoying the party?"