Hunter grinned when Archer asked for a beer, and he promptly delivered. It was nice to see his brother's anger pointed toward someone else for a change. which meant he could actually enjoy watching his brother squirm without worrying about getting caught in the gut by a spell (or a fist). It was a shame that Joel wasn't here to witness things! He'd have to be sure to send some pictures.

He followed the gaze of a lot of party goers when there was a thud of a fainting person, and Hunter snorted loudly when he saw the Other Archer. Polyjuice? That was brilliant. Why couldn't he ever think of things like that?

Hunter leaned toward Charlene. "You drink that and spend the evening looking like my brother, then I can promise you that you won't be getting lucky," he said with a broad grin. It was true, but the idea of polyjuice was just hilarious. That being said, he made a beeline for the punch. He took a large gulp of it, laughing when he turned into his brother.

"I'm Archer!" he called out, prancing across the room in the most feminine fashion he could muster. "I love ballet and my mommy and needlepoint!" He stopped in front of the Real Archer, and batted his Fake Archer eye lashes. "C'mon then, give us a kiss!" he said, looking down at Tamis with a wink.

There were things going on at this party that just… were not making Archer feel particularly festive.  There were the other things that were making him scratch his head.  It did not take a genius to figure who had conspired on this particular venture – and if he were more levelheaded at this point, he might have acknowledged the genius inherent in what they had done, but he was too busy being angry at them and demanding things from his pee-brained little brother. 

Then, of course, Eddie made it very clear his intention to rub salt into the wounds.  Archer had known him for a long time, and of course, part of that meant knowing his family – and the children, which Archer was fairly sure they were good kids, despite their father’s genetic heritage.  But, that was beside the point, since he knew that Eddie was just jealous that Archer was obviously a far more appealing and cooler role model to his children than Eddie was.  Unfolding the piece of paper, Archer’s forehead creased. 

It was one of those moments when one did not know whether to be supremely angry or flattered. He decided it was Eddie’s fault that the children were misinformed and would continue to deal with him after.  The picture, however, he put in his pocket – not wanting to ruin it.  Better than no present at all, after all.  But then, an even better present came! 

Archer was just glad to have a beer.  At this moment in time, he was just happy that his idiot brother could do something good for him and get him a bloody beer.  Cracking it open without a second thought, Archer lifted the bottle to his lips, glad to just get a little of the edge off, or so he thought. 

Barely a complete mouthful before the chaos broke out.  It appeared someone had dipped a little too hard into the firewhiskey, if that was the case, because there was someone on the floor – and then, Archer, with the bottle this lips, sputtered as he saw another one of himself.  The liquid flew from his lips and dribble down his chin, eyes wide as he fumbled to wipe his chin.  “What the bloody-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence, it appeared there was a greater chaos occurring. 

All over the party, there were indistinct shrieks going up, and following each with a glance, Archer could see copies of himself springing up.  He didn’t know how to respond to this.  Who would make polyjuice and even further why would anyone drink that troll’s piss voluntarily?  Was everyone really that far gone on anything else that they’d drink it without a second thought? 

So distracted by all of this, Archer did not notice that another Archer had appeared – this one with the voice of an all too familiar relative, and his eyebrows drew in with anger…  and then tried to stop himself from what felt like laughing, but also screaming.  It was the most disconnected rush of emotions ever.  He wanted to kill Pratt and Trevelyan, but also, didn’t feel like dealing with them, and could have done anything to strangle his brother, but could have also just as happily gotten so drunk he would forget why he was mad in the first place.  There were so many options. 

So, without abandon, he brought the bottle back up to his lips and chugged its contents.  He shoved the empty bottle at his far less intelligent doppelganger.  “Another, idiot.”

Adon turned at the soft touch, grinning as he saw who it was. "Hello, you," he said, kissing Jacoba briefly before glancing around for a less. . . volatile place to stand and talk. He hadn't seen much of her, since the 15th. Lack of electronic communication at Hogwarts also didn't help.

He glanced back at Archer, frowning. On a misery scale of 1-to-seeking lobotomy, the man seemed at about a 6. Perhaps 8.

"Another bottle." Well, Archer was not only talking desperate, he looked--and smelled--it, too. Adon glanced back at Jacoba, muttering in a low voice, "one minute," before stepping between Hunter and Archer.

"No," Adon cut in, shaking his head and producing the bottle from where it had been tucked away, in the crook of his arm. He considered Archer for a moment, wondering if this advice would be particularly wise. It certainly wouldn't kill him. Well, it could, but Adon'd intervene before it came to that. To hell with the 3-to-1 ratio one was supposed to follow with arak. "I'd say straight. The bottle's yours, anyhow."


Clapping the man on the shoulder, he looked around and shook his head. "At least the crowd's getting better looking. Happy Birthday, brother. We can make sure we're in charge of the coffee on Monday, eh?" Until Adon realised he wasn't going to be in the office on Monday. It had already felt like a month. Giving a bit of a sigh, he surveilled the area. Sometimes he missed this gang--he'd missed them for two weeks, in fact. But if he were Archer--different story.

Trevelyan still in tears. Oh dear. Momentary eye contact with Anna, and a sympathetic smile--she didn't seem to be enjoying herself overly much--before locking eyes with Jacoba and grinning. Wearing a short skirt. He loved it when she did that.

"Hey." Adon said, looking back to Archer. "Need me to take a swig of that Polyjuice later and con the crowd with my best Piddlehintonian accent for a bit, I will. Give you a chance to slip out with--" he bit back a cringe, "Raynor." A slight shrug as he suggested, "Or I just blow something up. It works pretty well, as far as distractions are concerned." A brief wink, and Adon was once more snaking through the crowd, dodging Archers, gingers, and dinosaurs to make his way back to Jacoba.

"So. You made it," he grinned, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Come on. Jonas and Anna are just over there," he said, tilting his head in the direction before hesitating. Maybe hanging out with his 30-something friends wasn't her idea of a good time. He didn't doubt but that he'd lost his edge. As he drew a bit closer, he noticed the second figure, leaned against the wall by Jonas, who was still rocking with laughter, facing the wall like it was the Western Wall. "Rocking party, guys," he congratulated. "And a cure to old age, I think. It'll make him think twice about turning 40 ever again." He looked at both before adding, "He's 38, right?"


As an afterthought, he added, "Hi, Anna. Welcome to wizardry."