He knew further questioning ran the possibility of hitting a brick wall. Were that the case, fine. He was content to wait and see what developed. The Archer class, after all, was known to improvise and think on their feet. Both of them had already revealed plenty in this short time, about their stance on the war, potential plans for the future, and even glimpses into their goals. Enough for them to think over this new alliance, how it might possibility work out and benefit them, and plan for its potential, or inevitable, dissolution.

Saber had given Archer plenty to think of.

Though he wondered why the other Servant wasn’t getting out of his face. He’d already made his point and Archer’s brows furrowed slightly as annoyance—and curiosity—began to pique inside him. He focused on Saber’s face since it was there, taking in the angle of his brows and the green of his eyes like the sea. Blonde hair that was far more flaxen that another Archer’s golden, but remarkably similar in style when down. Honestly, if Archer didn’t sweep his own up and back, they’d probably have similar styles. There were things he didn’t know about Saber, obviously, but he could definitely take in what he knew and could find out presently. Even if they weren’t exchanging blows or words, there were ways to show things and see them. He’d find out more in time.

“Ask her for the details,” he retorted, reaching up and folding his arms to rest his hands behind his head, fingers laced together. If Saber wasn’t going to move away, fine. He could play a game of chicken. Archer shot the Saber-class a wry eye, one corner of his mouth quirking for a second. “Somehow I doubt it. She’s not one that likes chivalrous protection.” (At least not admittedly, though Archer did suspect that deep down, his Master had her own feminine streak and romantic side.)

“Depends on what you did. If you interfere with her safety and goals, I might consider kicking you out of the house.”