Things like this shouldn't have caused him such discomfort. After centuries of wandering across the earth and learning the secrets of things that go bump in the night Archer should be able to see a woman in her boy shorts and not worry about offending her or feeling out of place. Especially considering the age they were in when women were pasted across billboards in quite a bit less than she. Not to mention her fairy blood - everyone know the fae were capricious creatures. They did not balk at nudity or limit themselves to beauty. Humans were much stricter in that regard, delegating certain things for women and certain things for men. Time had evolved such things and opened up opportunities but the limitations were still there, just much fainter. He had fled the faerie court long ago but it hadn't truly been a fairy court. Merely the home of one. Their concepts, even now with his own transformation, were so foreign to him that he doesn't even recall them.

The machinations of court intrigue were limited to human end goals in Archer's mind. He did not think that Blaise was embroiled in her own political game or that he was a center pivoting point. Regardless of his human beliefs it could not be denied that he was a strong fae. Over the years he grew stronger, focusing his powers and stretching them. He had avoided his own kind but never limited his interaction with others and usually it was a mutual curiosity. He was half beast and night walker, like the Shifters and Vampires, half fae, and half human - all rolled into one human turned fae but cursed with death and blood drinking. What a toxic mix.

Her blood does not appeal to him and his features tighten at hearing her hiss. It sucks that she must feel such pain on his behalf but it was necessary or else she would have a much more uncomfortable time. The knife slices so easily through flesh and it is the knowledge that she will heal swiftly that presses him onward. "Relax, little one." Now a corner of his mouth quirks up, blue eyes flicking to her pained face. "It is fortunate we heal quicker, don't you think?"

A choked laugh escapes him at her words. "A hoot indeed," he answers drily but amused by her humor. "Sometimes the most beautiful are also the most vain and vanity does not like being denied." There is a cautionary statement in there, not that SHE need ever worry about that but it remains forever fresh in his mind.

Finally she sits up and begins to dab at her knees. Archer sits back to watch, back pressing into her coffee table and offers her an easy smile. "It was no trouble. As for lovely, I think the view of your legs was lovelier than procedure but to each her own I suppose." Archer grins and winks at her, relaxed enough to flirt and offer a salacious look that is tamped down quickly lest she think he had nefarious intentions.

He sighs at her question and rubs one hand along the nape of his neck, brow arched while he contemplates. "I was 30 when I was turned so.... 440 years, give or take a year. I cannot account for how long I was trapped with her." She had done such damage to his mind that he struggle to remember his birthday at times.