2/2
Being simple and straightforward would serve him best. There was a job to do. He'd do the job. When this meeting was over, he'd go do a walkabout, work off the edge of his nerves. When he did, he'd try not to let his mind get stuck on Bran saying, 'Think about what you're asking Arch to do... You'd better act like it's the single, most fucking important job in this city that any person would be proud to die for.'
Bran hit the nail on the head. Archer would die for this city, if need be. If it served a useful purpose. But, like Olinger's image of blood being on everything, he didn't really need that thought in his head, either. Even if it was just as true.
He neither apologized for his partner's outburst nor did he acknowledge the mayor's apology for the state of his new badge. If he gave it any thought later, it was to decide that he'd already filed it under the mayor's helpful new category of 'background noise' in favor of more important choices. For now, Archer stood in a fluid motion, eyes tracking the room. "If that's settled," he stated quietly, glancing to first O'Brien, then Thomas, before settling on Olinger once more, waiting only the briefest of moments for any one of them to tell him different. The nod he'd given his partner earlier would hopefully forestall too much further protest. Archer didn't have a choice about any of this, not really, so he might as well go with it and in doing so show the respect that Brannon had been looking for in the other two men. "Right. Okay, Bran." A pause. "Deputy O'Brien," he amended. "And Mr. Lansing." He was going for full-on formal, it seemed. "You're witnessing."
The tall cop tilted his head at the mayor, his detective's brain unconsciously taking in the rumpled suit jacket and tired eyes of a fellow workaholic. There was, for a fraction of a second, something compassionate in his eyes before they were shuttered and professional once more. "Ready to swear me in, sir?" In Austin, he and Brannon swore an oath together that wasn't unlike the ones they'd said at their separate academy graduations. Archer remembered that there'd also been an oath the Chief took upon accepting his stars and his responsibilities; he'd just happened be around the day Grady took his in the squad room after their previous chief had fallen. If Olinger was giving him the badge... he'd be giving the oath. This was the way he could honor police procedure, mollify O'Brien's demand for respect. Archer, remembering this, looked to his best friend again. He was glad of not having to do this shit in public -- that was one thing this meeting had going for it -- but if someone had to be here to see this thing that wasn't ever supposed to happen? Well, at least Bran was here to witness the historical moment before Archer was handed his command and shit went sideways as he promptly failed as Chief. (That wasn't gonna fucking happen. Archer knew that. He was a good cop. All the same, this was gonna be a heavy weight to carry. He'd do the best he could.)
When the mayor was ready, Archer snagged his black cap with gold seal and embellishments and set it squarely on his head, though he didn't bother to pull the knot in his tie a little tighter. To his knowledge, the cap was only worn indoors for special events... and he guessed this qualified. Given the kind smile Olinger had proffered when first offering Grady's -- his -- badge, Archer had the feeling his attempt at being in uniform wasn't entirely unappreciated. It certainly fit into the circumstances of the meeting. He hadn't fucking known the occasion he'd be dressing for was the equivalent of two funerals and one oath of office, but at least he was doing his people proud when they'd hear about it. There was that. (Though if you looked at it Bran's way, their chief looked like a grade A doofus as he solemnly prepared to uphold the duties of his command.)