Archer should have known.  Honestly, he should have expected something of this sort from Nate.  He had intended to go Piddlehinton anyway (making up for the fact he’d missed Christmas this year), even though everyone understood… he knew his mother wasn’t happy about him having missed it.  The Trumble family, however, was grateful and Archer could be satisfied that it was a job well done.

Coming home, however, was not.  Tamis had stayed behind and Archer figured he could reach out to Nate, since he was in Piddlehinton and understood their… family.  Despite the fact he had married into the Radleys and was an American, he seemed to fit with most of them.  Village life and what not.  So, now that he was sitting in the pub at a table very strategically located near the blaze that was crackling in the oversized fireplace (dripping wet coat and shoes and everything sitting near by), he was not happy.  A bloody coffee was fine in starting to warm him up.

But what he really needed was a beer. 

In London the intense snows from earlier in the winter had… receded somewhat.  Out in Piddlehinton it was still stacked high and the streets were not quite as well maintained as the muggles might have liked them.  Apparently, not as much as Archer might have liked them as well.  He cursed under his breath the entire way and now he was sure he was going to continue that trend as his hands were wrapped around the mug waiting for a pint to be brought to him. 

“I hope you know you lost my trust,” Archer commented over the rim of the steaming coffee cup.  “I’m never coming out here again with you.” 

Archer should have seen this coming, but Nate was in no way going to warn him. He got what he wanted-- some nice, icy, fresh air, exercise, and to spend time with one of his favorite relatives. The Radleys had made Nate feel welcome from the minute he stepped foot in Piddlehinton. There was definitely judgement about how quickly he and Jilly had gotten married, but Jilly had always been the reckless, impulsive sort.  Coming up on the anniversary of her death, Nate had convinced Archer to go on a little 'walk around Piddlehinton' to talk about life.

He had also promised to pay for dinner and a few beers.

What Archer hadn't known was that the 'little walk' was more like an treacherous, slippery hike in the snow. Their clothes were soaked through. Nate had loved every minute of it. Archer, not so much.

Now he was warming up by the fire. Calliope was at her grandparents' house for a sleepover, so Nate had the night off. As if anyone could ever take a night off from being a parent. His thoughts kept going back to her, but he knew she'd be excited to see him in the morning.

"I can't believe you trusted me in the first place." Nate replied, "First of all-- I'm a lawyer. Second of all, I definitely did the same thing to Logan last month." A couple pints of beer were set on their table, and Nate thanked the waitress before focusing back on Archer. "Besides, you can't be gone too long. You'll break my daughter's heart." Callie loved her 'uncle' Archer, and tolerated Tamis.

 “I must’ve been hit with a stunning spell that impacted my judgment,” Archer commented with a wry smile.  Nate had a point: believing him had probably been his own fault, but even still!  The auror had had a rough holiday season, as far as anyone could see.  Being on a case on Christmas and having to emergency treat a near death, hypothermic (giant) werewolf boy in the field was not something he usually did.  That was for the healers and even worse: it wasn’t really the first time! 

Abductions in the past had gone a similar way.  Archer was starting to think he wore a target for these sorts of things.  Every couple of years, the forces of the universe just tossed one his way. 

He would be very grateful if the universe could never throw him another trek through the bloody ice and snow ever again.  Archer was more of a casual outdoorsmen (read: not one at all).  Frowning, he cast a look at him, “Logan is an idiot, you know I don’t willingly interact with him.”  A gruff grunt came from the other side of the pub.  Archer cleared his throat, “You know it’s true, Logan.” 

No response: truth accepted. 

Turning his attention back to Nate, Archer shrugged.  “I’d much rather be around your daughter than traipse around in the bloody woods.” 

Nate let out a laugh as Logan grunted at Archer. Logan had been a pleasant enough hiking partner-- if pleasant meant that he cussed, spat, drank, and stumbled around the entire time. Ah, memories to cherish.

"Did you ever see her halloween costume?" Nate asked, remembering abruptly that Archer had worked on Halloween. Besides that, he didn't live in Piddlehinton anymore. The loser, working on a Sunday. Nate enjoyed the fact that he had weekends off, though there was the occasional urgent case that required him to work weekends.  Without waiting for a response, Nate reached for his wallet and pulled out a picture.

"She was a Muay Thai-icorn." he offered by way of explanation. In the photo, Calliope was wearing her martial arts uniform as well as a headband that clearly belonged to a unicorn costume.

“I don’t think so,” Archer answered honestly, trying to remember.  Things sort of bled together, so he never really knew what his nieces, nephews, and assorted cousins were up to year in and year out.  He was often caught referencing memories from years previous as recent happenings and it was forgiven because he was an auror and his job was so frequently tied up in helping others that he got a pass.

Most of the time. 

He was just glad it was not as though he had his own children.  He was sure it would be a much more difficult conversation when you missed your own kid’s Halloween than a relative’s.  Looking at the picture, he couldn’t help but laugh though.  “Never seen one of these about,” he snorted. 

“Still doing that karate stuff, eh?” he asked, curious about the whole thing.  He didn’t really understand – muggle things were beyond him most of the time (even more so with Tamis), and this was decidedly muggle.   “I imagine she can kick your arse by now,” he smirked, “or at least Logan’s.” 

Nate didn't bother to correct Archer. It wasn't karate. But he didn't want to pick at his cousin. It was strange how wizards around here were not as into mixed martial arts as they were in the US. Perhaps that was just a Pacific Northwest thing. Maybe the area in which he grew up was peculiar.

"Ah, she could-- only because I couldn't ever imagine fighting back at her!" She was four years old for Merlin's sake. "Anyone can take Logan, though." From across the bar, he could swear he heard Logan growl. "Easy there, man!" Nate exclaimed. Logan grunted. It seemed that Logan was a man of few words and many disgruntled noises.

"Do you and Tamis want any?" Nate asked, "Kids, I mean."

Logan was … one of the stranger Radleys, to be certain.  Archer braced his hands against the arms of the chair and pushed himself up to turn and look at the hunched man at the bar.  He was indeed muttering something, though the permanently gravel mouthed cousin was incomprehensible.  “You’re right about that,” Archer laughed and settled back down into the chair, squishing in the seat. 

Ugh.

He really did needed to get a good hit in later with a sneaky spell or something.  It wouldn’t hit nearly as hard as Nate’s next question either.  He coughed, buying time and then looked around instinctively.  They were, after all, in the Radley homebase.  His mother could be anywhere near.  Archer was not afraid of his mum, per se, but she had super sonic bat hearing when it came to such things and he didn’t want to arouse her interest in their conversation.  At all. 

“Not sure,” Archer said honestly, “Hasn’t really come up.” 

Probably weird, he reasoned, but there had always been bigger fish to fry: more pressing issues to deal with.  “I don’t think I’d mind though,” he said honestly, “But, I’ll leave the lead on that to Ray,” he nodded thoughtfully.  “Safer that way.”  For everyone involved.  Tamis was a hard nut to crack, she had to come around to things before they could be brought to the table as a reality.

Reaching up to rub his chin – a habit when in thought, Archer’s jaw clenched for a second trying to find something more comfortable to talk about when it hit him, “Wasn’t it just your birthday?” he asked.