I swear I had something for this.

[Sitting on a wooden platform high up in a tree, surrounded by the miniature ursine natives and illuminated by torchlight, Archer beams.]

These guys are awesome! [Archer slings an arm around the nearest native and pats him on the shoulder, laughing heartily. The native in turn pats his arm before slipping out of his grip.] Seriously, this is like the best camping trip I’ve ever been on. I don’t care what anyone says, they know how to party. Rogue’s all like “ya don’t know what yer gettin’ in for, Archer.” With teddy bears.

That said, they do have pointy sticks. BUT. They don’t use them if you share your stuff. Come on by and surrender your candy bars and booze. The candy bars are for them, the booze is for me.

Oh my God, you guys. Check it out, this is awesome!

[Archer sets the camera up on a chair in his cabin and hugs the wall, setting his hand on the light-switch.] Look, look, look – here! [He turns the light off and the rooms suddenly fill with flashes of colored lights, and when he flicks the switch again the colors disappear, normal light catching his grin. Then he turns it off again.]

See? Instant light-switch rave! Hey Rogue, can you get me some glow-sticks? And a fog machine!

Seriously, someone get that green skull guy in on this.

( He's making a list, he's checking it twice )

SNOWBALL FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

[The feed captures the CES, snowy, hilly, and covered in pine forests. The place is a regular winter wonderland: in fact it's Gstaad, Switzerland, a ski resort with the chateau and lift stripped away. A series of snowballs, thrown rapid-fire against the trunk of a pine tree, explode into icy powder as Archer laughs.] Yes! Still pitching like the world's manliest top!

So I've been waiting to say this since I was, like, three. I AM DECLARING WAR ON THE CITIZENS OF THIS DIMENSION.

Okay, here's what we're doing. SNOWBALL WAR IN THE CES, BITCHES. Grab your friends, grab your warden, and grab a handful of snow and try to kick some ass. Bring it home like it's Pizza Hut, guys, or the fight's coming to the halls. The winners get everlasting glory and valor! The losers get mocked into oblivion!

And, seriously. Like half you assholes don't want to see me lose.

Which I won't. Because, uh, duh.

[There's a slight pause in which that line of thought ends, giving the feed an uninterrupted and rather pretty alpine winter image. Then it blurs as he takes off running somewhere, catching his voice as he darts off:]

SCOTT'S ON MY TEAM!