gotanothercall: (Default)
The cold air felt good on his face. His blood hadn't stopped pumping in days and the crisp chill of fall made him breathe just a little easier. Archy stood at the door. He should knock. This needs to get done. Yet his hand wouldn't raise. He stood and let the oncoming winter soothe him for just another moment. He never liked the cold before. It made him ache in places he usually forgot about, and that only increased with age. Sixty five he was now. A long life, at least in his line of work. Most certainly a full one.

“Get on with it.”

Archy forcefully rapped on the door. He was never known for being impatient, but right then he couldn't fathom why it took an eternity of twenty-six seconds for the old fuck to answer. It wasn't as though the man he was waiting for ever aged properly anyway, he has no excuse to move so slowly. However, even eternity had to end, and Harry Hart had to answer. The door opened wide, which surprised Archy. He was expecting fifty different kinds of locks and then the door to open only a sliver.

But then again, who was he kidding? Harry had nothing to be afraid of.

“I can only guess Rosalind decided to forget my very reasonable request of keeping my home address private.” Harry both looked and sounded as dry as always. Even standing there in a God damn eye patch, like some kind of cartoon villain or Bond villain or... well just some idiot in an eyepatch.

“I'm a very convincing man when I want to be,” Archy replied. He could normally match Harry's stoicism with his own, but today he just missed the mark. Wrongness tinged his voice and settled in the lines of his face. “Only took me, what, fifteen years to get it out of her? You should thank her for resisting my charms for so long.” Wrapped in the glib comments was a real request. 'Don't blame her for what's about to happen.' “Gonna let me in or what, Harry, haven't got the time to dick around.”

The spy raised a brow. Archy knew better than to leave himself so open for comment. However, Harry didn't take the easy bait. This wasn't a day for jokes. “I don't see any reason I should, Archy.”

“Consider it a dead man's final request.”

Every word was lead leaving Archy's mouth. The weight fell between them. Harry stared rather impassively, which was infuriating, but he stepped aside and the light of his home rushed out to invite Archy inside. Before Harry could change his mind, Archy stepped in. He followed the hallway, eyes roaming over the decoration. It was much more... kitsch than he expected. The living room was much the same, both maudlin and ridiculous. It was like a coroner and a granny shared the space. “Homey,” Archy said wryly.

“I've seen what you call art, you don't get a say,” Harry replied blithely. “I'd offer you a drink, but I'd say you're a couple whiskeys in already, judging from the smell.”

“You think I'm drunk.”

“Your actions say yes, but your demeanor says no.”

Archy smirked. At least, he tried to. It came out much more grim than any expression of mirth ever should. It faded away quickly. He looked Harry in his eye. The two of them had been through a lot together. For the pair of them, their work meant nearly everything in their world. They actively opposed one another every day, while helping the other in large and small ways. They both saved and try to kill one another countless times. Harry paved the way for Archy to be with the love of his life. The two of them shared a complicated relationship. And it all came down to this. “You know what's about to happen to me.”

Harry met his gaze. “I know a lot of things. You'll have to be--”

“You. Know.”

That wrongness, the acid bubbling under Archy's skin, showed so much more with just those two words.

Harry nodded. “I know.”

Archy took a breath. The decision was made. He made it when he realized a sentence would be coming down on his head. Then why was it so hard to get the words out now? The chances were always good that it would come down to this. And really, what was the alternative? “Get me out of it.” It could be a request or a demand, but it sounded like neither. Archy wasn't sure what he sounded like anymore. Maybe this is what desperation looked like on him. He had forgotten. He had it so good for a while.

Harry's frown grew slightly, only slightly, but enough for the disappointment to come through loud and clear. Even as his voice gave nothing away, Archy could read it all over him. “You know I'm not going to do that,” Harry said. “You played the game, Archy, and you lost. It was a matter of time.”

Archy's eyes fell shut. It might have been read as his own disappointment showing, but he knew that was going to be the answer. He grinned and it twisted, a broken thing. “Well, never hurts to ask, does it?” He couldn't back out now. He couldn't. Archy reached around and pulled his gun from his waistband. He leveled the Browning between Harry's eyes. “But now I'm done asking. Get me out.” Every last molecule tightened in his body. Archy was as still as stone, and serious as a heart attack. Harry had been using Archy's own language when he called what they did a game. Archy wasn't a man for winding metaphors and to him, that had always been the easiest way to describe what it is they did. Right now, his message couldn't be any more clear. Archy wasn't playing anymore.

He had to wonder if Harry was genuinely thrown by the levels he was going to right now, or if the agent simply wasn't bothered by the gun pointed at him. There was a time when Archy would have barely gotten his hand around the grip before Harry would've broken his arm in three places. Maybe he just missed the thrill of the field. Who could tell with Harry Hart? Either way, Archy had his advantage. Harry remained nonplussed when he said, “What did you think was going to happen, Archy? I've been unfortunate witness to a few of your plans and this is by far the most idiotic one. Shoot me if you must. You're going back to prison. Kill me now and you're just promising yourself a longer sentence.”

He just stood there. Harry just stood there, with his infinite supply of haughtiness and power, and Archy could only think of two more times in his life where he had been more tempted to pull a trigger. He represented every power that was about to put Archy away, maybe for life (even not factoring in if he did kill Harry). Yet he didn't. In all honesty, Archy didn't expect to make it to this point. For a man who cherished planning, now he flew by the seat of his pants. He stared at Harry, taking his time. He never looked more lost in front of an enemy, or maybe in front of anyone at all. “I can't go back.” He sounded small, and he hated it. A spark of anger went off in his belly, then Archy seized it. He thought of every damned moment in his life, everything that led him here. He thought of every childhood beating from coppers and his fellow boys alike. He thought of his country, a place that failed him miserably while giving him the trappings he needed to thrive. He thought of Lenny and the example he gave, and how he would rather die than become a sell out to avoid prison. He thought of Johnny, that angry little kid who became a savvy and cutthroat man, who had lost enough but was about to lose another. He would at least have an empire to soothe his sorrows. Archy felt at peace of the idea of Johnny taking his mantle. He just wished he had more time. There were so many things to make up with that boy, to teach him.

And then there was Ros.

Brilliant Rosalind, beautiful Rosalind, his Rosalind. He thought that kind of love was just something that would pass him by until she came along. She wasn't cold like the world thought she was, like even she herself thought. He knew that she would have trouble with this. He could only hope she'd forgive him.

Archy cocked the gun.

The lightning Archy had been waiting for struck. He hadn't even been able to pull the hammer back fully before Harry came for him. The supposedly retired agent moved a little slower, but he still had a skillset. He grabbed Archy's gun and wrenched it from his hand, throwing it across the room. Before Archy could react, Harry balled his fist and jabbed him in the throat. Archy doubled over, coughing violently. Even at this low, Archy would go down swinging. While bent over, Archy took to opportunity to punch Harry between the legs. The sound that escaped Harry made him grin viciously. They grabbed for one another at the same time. Archy groped Harry's person and lucked out, immediately finding his gun. Harry, meanwhile, took Archy by the waistband and kneed him in the stomach not once, but twice. Archy knew how to take a few licks, but he was closer to the grave than he was his prime. The only thing that kept him hitting the floor was holding on to his enemy. With all his force, he wrenched his head up and clocked Harry in the chin with it. He heard the man's teeth rattle. It hurt him too, but he had to keep going. Just a little further. Archy then made himself rise. Gun still in hand, he pointed it under Harry's chin.

Harry clapped his hands around both of Archy's ears. While it didn't hurt, it did disorient the hell out of him. Hurting was for the next bit. Harry punched him in the solar plexus, then swung his leg around to trip Archy. He fell hard on his back, again coughing like mad. He wasn't sure where the gun went, but it left his hand somewhere in the fray. Harry met him on the floor, straddling him. Archy could practically hear the blood coursing through the other man. One more time, Harry put his hands on Archy's face. This time, one violently grabbed the side of his head while the other went for the back of the neck.

Archy was about to get his neck snapped. It went against every principle in his body, but he closed his eyes and resisted the urge to fight him off.

Harry had always insisted he was like every other man. He just had extra training. But Archy knew better. He was something else, something just a little bit beyond. In his heart, he knew it was why he had always been just a little bit drawn to Harry Hart. He could do things men like Archy could only dream of. If the roles had been reversed, this would have been over. Archy would have killed the man and slept like a baby that night. However, Harry had something Archy did not. Archy didn't know how he could possibly ignore the adrenaline, but Harry did. Harry must have felt something, or seen something, but he stopped himself from going all the way. He took in Archy. Archy was defeated. Archy was old. Archy was done.

Harry let go with a jolt. Archy could not only feel the disgust, he swore he could taste it. He watched Harry sit upright, still on top of him. Such a compromising position once upon a time, but the two of them were beyond embarrassments. Archy took in the scene of Harry coming to terms with this moment. Disbelief lasted for only the briefest of seconds.

“You fucking bastard.”

Archy, beneath his anger and disappointment and crushing hopelessness, felt a bit of shock. Never, not once in their strange partnership, for all the trouble Archy caused, had he heard Harry so enraged. That rage seared when Harry continued.

“You coward.”

Truly an awful thing to be called, a coward. It wasn't something Archy heard since he was a boy. But there is something worse, much worse. Archy, on his back in enemy territory, powerless to his opponent, lay there and took it. He didn't argue. His temper didn't flare. His expression didn't even change. Resignation was truly an ugly look, but it was all Archy saw when he looked in a mirror in the days coming up to his final hearing. Ros, that wonderful woman, kept looking for ways to get out him out of the inevitable sentence. But Archy knew better than to hope. It was like Harry said. He lost.

And he'd rather die than go back.

Harry, usually the epitome of grace, clumsily made his way off of Archy. He moved back until he was against the wall. He stayed seated on the ground, the two of them panting in the corridor. Archy still couldn't say a word. Just when he thought he couldn't sink any lower, he somehow managed to feel shame. Archy thought it better this way. Wasn't really suicide if someone else killed you, was it? But now, Harry was almost shaking with anger. He was horrified at being provoked and being used, and Archy knew that all he did was try to make Harry his gun. Sick bubbled in his guts. This was never how it was supposed to be.

“Get up.” Harry was on his feet again. “Get out of my house.” Archy was shaky in his bones, his breath, his fucking soul, but he stood. He locked eyes with Harry, and Harry's held nothing but revulsion. Archy never gave a damn before. They saw eye to eye on almost nothing. Archy lived how he lived, and not once did he feel inclined to apologize for it, least of all to Harry Hart. In that moment, Archy would have if he thought it would've done anything to change Harry's knowing gaze. He fixed his jacket in some attempt to regain dignity. They held the stare for one more moment. Then, with no fanfare, Archy turned on his heel. He stalked away, not bothering to pick up his Browning. Didn't need it anymore, did he? As he walked out the door, Harry had one last thing to say.

“You better fucking apologize to her.”
gotanothercall: (Default)
appearance & body perception
emotional & mental
daily life

Describe the character's height and build. Is he heavyset, thin, short, rangy?
6'2". around 220 lbs. broad, but looks like someone who could have been lanky once. sturdy.

How old is he?
48 in the events of his canon, in 2008.
55 in 2015.

Describe his posture. Does he carry himself well, or does he slouch?
he holds himself up with pride. very old school, hands behind his back frequently, shoulders squared off.

How is his health? Is he fit or out of shape? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities?
in good condition for a smoker and a drinker who is past the mid-life range. he contributes this to all the exercise inherent in running a criminal empire. plus will power.

How does he move? Is he clumsy, graceful, tense, fluid?
he moves with grace. he's very comfortable in his skin.

How attractive is this character physically? How does he perceive himself in the mirror?
he has appealing features. wide and sharp green eyes, big hands, strong nose and jaw, charming smile (even with the snaggletooth). he has some idea to his attractiveness but doesn't see himself as particularly pleasant to the eye.

Describe his complexion: dark, light, clear, scarred?
he has darker complexion for an Englishman. inherited from the Italian father he never knew. no signs of aging beyond the worry lines on his forehead. hasn't made it through his line of work without scars: a jagged three-inch line on his right arm, a smaller but otherwise similar scar in the center of his chest, a bullet hole-shaped scar on the lower left abdomen, and a leftover surgery scar on his right knee. (last one, oddly, is just from a football incident in his youth.)

Describe his hair: color, texture, style.
his hair is black, although showing slight streaks of gray (more visible in 2015 than 2008). thick, smooth and well kept, always slicked back. has a severe widow's peak.

What color are his eyes?
dark green, sometimes mistaken for hazel.

Does the character have any other noteworthy features?
the snaggletooth dead center of his smile, seen on the top center teeth.

What are his chief tension centers?
shoulders and lower back.

What is the character's wardrobe like? Casual, dressy, utilitarian? Bright colors, pastels, neutrals? Is it varied, or does he have six of the same suit?
very simple. tasteful and understated suits with plain button down shirts. no ties and collar unbutton for some gangster sensibility.

Do his clothes fit well? Does he seem comfortable in them?
his simple clothes look impeccable due to the always flattering fit. he'll spend more on the tailoring than the outfits themselves.

Does he dress the same on the job as he does in his free time? If not, what are the differences?
essentially the same, allowing for more casualness in the home of course.

You knew it was coming: what kind of underwear does he wear, if any?
boxers. he likes the breathing room.
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What does this character's voice sound like? High-pitched, deep, hoarse?
deep and smooth. more or less exactly what you'd expect him to sound like.

How does he normally speak? Loud, soft, fast, evenly? Does he talk easily, or does he hesitate?
very even, right smack in the middle between quiet and loud. he doesn't speak particularly fast or slow, but always gives the impression that he's thought about it before he opens his mouth.

Does the character have a distinct accent or dialect? Any individual quirks of pronunciation? Any, like, you know, verbal tics?
english, obviously. if one has any sort of familiarity with england's varied voices, then it's very apparent that he grew up in London's poor East End.

What language(s) does he speak and with how much fluency?
english. you're not getting anything else out of him.

Does he switch languages or dialects in certain situations?
see above. he only has the one dialect to his name, although he has a surprising ability to imitate a variety of other british and irish accents.

Is he a good impromptu speaker, or does he have to think about his words?
even when he's speaking off the top of his head (which is way more often than he'd like you to know), he sounds practiced. he's made a skill of rolling with whatever is thrown at him.

Is he eloquent or inarticulate? Under what circumstances might this change?
he's eloquent when he's allowed to be. but he works with a bunch of thugs, so he usually isn't allowed to be.
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How intelligent is this character? Is he book-smart or street-smart?
street smart hands down. he dropped out of school to chase after a thriving career in criminality. he isn't precisely book dumb, he does have a mind of math (although he didn't learn that in school either) and is even shown to have a penchant towards the philosophical, but he isn't particularly well read or knowledgeable in intellectual areas.

Does he think on his feet, or does he need time to deliberate?
both, depends on what the situation calls for.

Describe the character's thought process. Is he more logical or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical?
he is the definition of practical. idealism doesn't suit a criminal. but somewhat conversely, he errs more towards being intuitive than logical. he'll feel out situations, rather than go from point a to point b to deduce an outcome. he's nimble in his thought process and can roll with what comes his way, as his world is anything but predictable.

What kind of education has the character had?
he went to school until he dropped out at 16 to pursue a life of crime.

What are his areas of expertise? What, if anything, is he interested in learning more about?
he has a mind of math, being Lenny's bookie for some years. frankly, his main area of expertise is criminality. he has a genuine passion for it. running cons, hiding in plain sight, how to intimidate different types of people. he likes learning more about how to be better at it, especially as the world changes. (but at the same time, he finds ways to stay true to himself.)

Is he an introvert or an extrovert?
extrovert, although he hardly fits the standard definition. he knows how to socialize, but it's exactly a social butterfly with loads of friends. he's reserved, but he draws energy from being around crowds and noise. he'll take breaks when he needs them and withdraw, but for as much as he claims to hate chaos, he can't spend a lot of time in silence.

Describe the character's temperament. Is he even-tempered, or does he have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholic? Laid-back or driven?
Archy is so even that you could use his temperament as a level. it takes a whole lot to shake him. he can flip a switch to act impassive and harsh when an occasion arises, but in reality he's usually just nonplussed, even cheerful. he's confident in his ability to get himself and his crew through any given day, so he can roll with whatever happens.

How does he respond to new people or situations? Is he suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic?
internally, he calculates if and how they can be of any help to him and his endeavors. but on the outside, he's generally quite friendly. he excels at making people feel comfortable.

Is he more likely to act or to react?
if he has a choice in the matter, act. but with what he does, there's plenty of reacting to do.

Which is his default: fight or flight?
fight. again, Archy knows himself to be competent, and he can take out a threat. but this is only to a reasonable degree, and he doesn't have a problem running if he needs to.

Describe the character's sense of humor. Does he appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks?
surprisingly quirky. Archy likes a laugh, and is shown to be quite silly when it's called for.

Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If so, how does he deal with them?
he'd rather take a bullet than see a therapist. if he were to ever go to one, they'd likely have a thing or two to say about his anger issues and complicated inferiority complex.

What moments in this character's life have defined him as a person?
growing up poor in Thatcher's England.

What does he fear?
very little, but he is deathly terrified of ever going back to prison. he'd genuinely rather die. he also has a healthy fear of letting his lifestyle corrupt him, to become something like Lenny. pompous, entitled, and everything he's never wanted to be.

What are his hopes or aspirations?
he now has the life he's always wanted, so his biggest aspiration is to keep it as long as he can. it'd be idiotic to think it can last forever, so the other hope is to someday get out clean when the going is still good.

What is something he doesn't want anyone to find out about him?
he isn't as collected as he presents himself to be. he wants, rather fiercely, but he sees that as something that can be exploited, as well as a certain way to his downfall.
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Describe this character's relationship with his parents.
there is no relationship with the dad, because Archy never met him. it bothered him when he was young, but he's since gotten over it. his mother raised him on her own, and he loves her very dearly. he grew up with this woman doing everything she could and then some to take care of him. as he got older, they often fought about his extracurricular activities. she wanted a good life for her son. but despite that, they still were very close.

Does the character have any siblings? What is their relationship like?

Are there other blood relatives to whom he is close? Are there ones he can't stand?
again, his mother, when she was alive. otherwise, no.

Are there other, unrelated people whom he considers part of his family? What are his relationships with them?

Who is the character's best friend? How did they meet?

Does he have other close friends?

Does he make friends easily, or does he have trouble getting along with people?

Which does he consider more important: family or friends?

Is the character single, married, divorced, widowed? Has he been married more than once?

Is he currently in a romantic relationship with someone other than a spouse?

Who was his first crush? Who is his latest?

What does he look for in a romantic partner?

Does the character have children? Grandchildren? If so, how does he relate to them? If not, does he want any?

Does he have any rivals or enemies?

What is the character's sexual orientation? Where does he fall on the Kinsey Scale?

How does he feel about sex? How important is it to him?

What are his turn-ons? Turn-offs? Weird bedroom habits?
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Do you know your character's astrological sign? How well does he fit the type?

Is this character religious, spiritual, both, or neither? How important are these elements in his life?

Does this character have a personal code of ethics or morals? If so, how did that begin? What would it take to compromise it?

How does he regard beliefs that differ from his? Is he tolerant, intolerant, curious, indifferent?

What prejudices does he hold? Are they irrational, or does he have a good reason for them?
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What is the character's financial situation? Is he rich, poor, comfortable, in debt?

What is his social status? Has this changed over time, and if so, how has the change affected him?

Where does he live? House, apartment, trailer? Is his home his castle or just a place to crash? What condition is it in? Does he share it with others?

Besides the basic necessities, what does he spend her money on?

What does he do for a living? Is he good at it? Does he enjoy it, or would he rather be doing something else?

What are his interests or hobbies? How does he spend his free time?

What are his eating habits? Does he skip meals, eat out, drink alcohol, avoid certain foods?
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Color ➠ black. purple. red.
Smell ➠ cologne. cigarettes. copper.
Time of day ➠ dusk.
Season ➠ autumn.
Book ➠ Brighton Rock by Graham Greene.
Music ➠ the jam. the housemartins. jay z.
Place ➠ London.
Substance ➠ liquor. tobacco.
Plant ➠ oak tree. common ivy.
Animal ➠ jaguar.
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below average
above average
what the fuck

rate your character's...


rate your character's abilities in…


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All questions, provided with HTML, can be found here. Adapted from here.

IC Contact

Sep. 9th, 2011 02:33 am
gotanothercall: (♚ i'll get more in depth)

"This is Archy. Leave a message and I'll get back to ya when I can."


Sep. 9th, 2011 02:29 am
gotanothercall: (☎ tears on the mausoleum floor)
You know how it works, guys. It's all screened and anon and stuff. Now give us some crit.


gotanothercall: (Default)

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