eachdraidh | video; Open to all

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Look, let's make something clear here.

[DEEP BREATH.]

Killing other people? Who cares. I can name about a billion people who don't even deserve to take another breath.

Killing alligators and crocodiles? Wipe them out. What are they good for other than looking stupid and starring in movies that are only awesome because of the actors.

But...

But...

Killing the King of Beasts? Not cool at all. He's probably this super awesome creature who just wants to hang out, drink a beer, and have fun but nooooooooooooo. You idiots have to run around and act like he needs to be dead.

I don't want to hear shit about how it wants to be killed. Assisted suicide is sick! Just catch him and take him to a psychologist or something. Don't enable that kind of thing. It's racist...or something along those lines.

Jesus.

[Don't mind him as he drains this bottle of alcohol. A rant like that makes his throat dry, that's all.]

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[Yep, that's got her flustered, a little.]

Oh, here he is not as strange as I thought. I assume you're from the modern world.

If by modern, you mean anything more advanced than this backwater hellhole, then yes. America is a great place.

If it is so great, I am sure I would have heard of it.

Oh god.

You know of Scotland, right?

Nay. I have heard of the Scotti, however.

[She smirks a little, enjoying the joke.]

You literally could not parse semantics any more than you are now. God.

Fine, you know who they are. If they're the gleam in England's eye and Ireland is England's red-headed step-child, then America is the rebellious youngest child who kicks their ass and makes their own country.

[Well, it's a little difficult keeping her reaction to Ireland being described in such a way, but the most he gets is a narrowing of her eyelids.]

I see. I imagine that is quite far in the future for me. Did a druid turn the people there into pigs for a time?

Oh hah.

Hah hah hah.

[The fake laughter.]

Is this some kind of nobility insult? Because, where I'm from, no one gives a shit about your birthright.

That's okay, though, I'll forgive you.

Oh no, I would not dream of such an insult. I was just wondering if that is where your manners came from.

What's your name and I'll answer that sort-of question. I've got to know.

Grainne.

Archer. Sterling Archer.

My manners come from my mother. Who really sucks. You're a lot better, let me tell you. Want to go get a drink somewhere?

[Wait.

She's really confused. He was supposed to get huffy and irritated.]

But I have a drink.

I didn't ask if you had a drink.

Ah, I see. You mean with you? Shall my husband accompany us?

No, he can stay home because he's probably a dork.

[She actually laughs at that, because... Diarmuid kind of is.]

I am afraid I must decline.

You can decline for now but how long can you hold out against these steely, blue eyes?

I have been wooed by Cu Chulainn and still have my integrity intact, and you're not quite the poet he is. It would take an army to pry me away from the arms of my husband.

[She shrugs.]

I am more of a golden eye lady.

Army? Hahaha, oh my god. In the world of nuclear weapons? You're asking to get someone's ass kicked. Yeah, you'll get your gold eyes after horrifically dying from cancer.

[Grainne raised her eyebrows. She has no idea of half of what he said, so she focuses on the one thing she sort of did.]

My husband's eyes are golden-amber colored. You can ask him yourself.