Archie kept cursory track of where he was going as he walked, aiming to put as much distance as he could between himself and the hotel room. He mentally berated himself for his behavior, his thoughts, just everything. If Gold managed to get that safe open to get the scroll and take Pongo back to Storybrooke just to spite him, honestly Archie couldn't say he'd blame him.

Fairies, his parents were right: He was useless.

The nice thing about Manhattan was that it wasn't Storybrooke. There was no one to see Archie as he sat down in a corner booth in a bar and decided to nurse a beer for a while as he mentally kicked himself over and over.