[It's only when Archer starts pacing again that Kimblee moves, stepping forward into Archer's path to intercept him, resting one hand firmly on Archer's shoulder as though to stop him while running the other backwards, lightly, through his hair. There's no wariness behind the gesture; why should there be? It's not like Archer has immediate control of four feet of reinforced steel capable of coming down on his head, nor is there the threat of being shot. The most Archer can do now is push him away, if he really doesn't like it. Hit him, maybe, though Kimblee will just hit him back if he tries it. More likely, if he doesn't want to be touched he'll just freeze up and yell.

Kimblee's never taken well to Archer yelling at him, but it's kind of impressive how nonthreatening that seems in comparison to what he had been facing for that entire weekend.

His gaze still isn't very focused; his hand trembles a bit against Archer's hair. But at the very least his words are calm.]

I don't know, Archer.

[He allows his eyes to slide closed; again, there's nothing much that Archer can threaten him with that would make that too directly terrible an idea.]

What's relevant now is that nothing of the sort can happen here; even if it could, you've tasked me with your protection and you know I wouldn't allow it. You're fine, as long as you're here.