"Oh, goodie." With the discordant combination of the word choice and the Nychta's appearance, it would have been a jarring thing to hear come from his lips. He doubted the man in front of him would care. But he would notice, of course. It was a safe assumption to make that he would notice everything. Notice it and file it away in whatever cold metal filing cabinet constituted as his brain. It was probably the only functioning organ that he had. "I love having motivation."
There was no doubt that his supposed ease with the situation and the amount of flippancy he had adopted was potentially a horrible idea. But just existing in the same airspace as the taller man was a horrible idea. So many routes ended in torture or death! What a wonderful situation.
While the following questions weren't surprising, they weren't exactly ones that he wanted to answer. Too bad he had no option regarding that. The only choice he had in the matter was what exactly he was going to say by means of an answer. The truth, a lie, or some blend of the two? The odds of him being called out on a lie were high. Too high for his liking. Too high to risk it. As his options narrowed even further, he kept the growing grimace to an internal expression only. His line of work was something that paid the bills better than so many other things that he could have found himself doing. But that didn't mean that he wanted to delve into the sordid details of the methods of his survival. Especially not to the uniformed man right up in his personal space.
Well. No time like the present!
"Oh. You know." Archer found himself procuring another clove and lighting it as a way to distract himself and keep his hands busy while buying a few more precious seconds. "Something a little more expensive and a little fancier than prostitution. But. Well. Prostitution." Good thing it wasn't illegal like it would have been for those in the daycycle. Not to say that his clients didn't necessarily number among the Imera population and Lykofos alike. There was only the slightest amount of common sense that kept him from adding some sort of facetious comment about the man in front of him. The last thing he needed was a dark alley and a bad idea.
He had bigger issues to deal with.
Such as the way that the last name repeated to his face was fake. It was one that he lived by but not one that he had been born with and not one that his parents shared with him. At least Archer had a decent amount of talent when it came to thinking on his feet.
"His last name is Leides. Great big beak of a nose, can't miss him."
What the fuck had he gotten himself into.