“What was so important you called me away from…work?” Atticus asked, earning a smirk from Lucas, who stared pointedly at Atticus’s rumpled clothing. “Are we finally having an intervention for Archer’s drinking?” Archer snorted, then downed the remainder of his drink, snagging a bottle off the shelf behind him and refilling his glass. “It’s possible. Nobody’s told me anything.” Had he brought his own booze?
