[Kimblee can feel the tightness in his posture, the tension gripping his shoulders and his upper back where he's pressed against the wall; he closes his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to relax. Calm down. There's nothing about this that should warrant this sort of reaction; any sense of overstimulation is purely the result of whatever's been striking him for the last few days. He's had moments where was particularly manic for no reason, where he's had to get out of the hotel and do something or else he would simply go mad from the lack of stimuli in the area; that's the only thing that could possibly be causing this.
He does like Archer, to some extent; as much as he likes anybody, anyway. At the very least, he's reasonably fond. But this...]
no subject
He does like Archer, to some extent; as much as he likes anybody, anyway. At the very least, he's reasonably fond. But this...]
...I'm sorry, Archer.
[He isn't. He never is.]