Vasquez is still bleary with sleep, rubbing his eyes and staring at Faraday for a long moment, but as he slowly starts to wake up, he's also beginning to see that something is clearly wrong. The colour in his neck, the way he won't make eye contact, and his general quiet means that something is wrong.
Dread begins to sink in his heart because he has a bad feeling he knows why. "Was I talking in my sleep?" he asks, his heart pounding louder in his ears, making it hard to hear anything but the pulsing of his panic. He knows what he'd been dreaming (and is glad that his panic had stemmed any flagging interest in other parts of his body), but if he'd been making the sounds and noises he thinks he might have been...
His gun is too far, but he sits up slowly, not sure if he's going to need to run or fight, but he's on high alert. "Faraday, I..." He can't say he didn't mean to. He can't say that he doesn't want it, not without being caught in a lie. "I didn't mean you to hear anything," he settles on, because there is the truth.
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Dread begins to sink in his heart because he has a bad feeling he knows why. "Was I talking in my sleep?" he asks, his heart pounding louder in his ears, making it hard to hear anything but the pulsing of his panic. He knows what he'd been dreaming (and is glad that his panic had stemmed any flagging interest in other parts of his body), but if he'd been making the sounds and noises he thinks he might have been...
His gun is too far, but he sits up slowly, not sure if he's going to need to run or fight, but he's on high alert. "Faraday, I..." He can't say he didn't mean to. He can't say that he doesn't want it, not without being caught in a lie. "I didn't mean you to hear anything," he settles on, because there is the truth.