Faraday can’t help but snort out a laugh at that, relaxing more and more when Vasquez seems disinclined to discuss what, exactly, Vasquez was dreaming. (Not that Faraday is completely clueless – it would take a complete fool to see and hear what Faraday had and not figure out where Vasquez’s dreams had wandered.) The gears in Faraday’s mind spin wildly, though, with the revelation of this particular facet, and Faraday tries to think back – have there been signs? Or was this merely an odd, one-time dream?

He settles back down, pulling his blanket around himself, and frowning up at the night sky. It’s still dark, as Faraday had pointed out earlier, but sunrise isn’t too far off, by his reckoning. He huffs out a sigh, glancing over as Vasquez continues to grouse.

The reminder of their little wager elicits a quick frown, but it’s smoothed away one of Faraday’s usual devil-may-care smirks.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, amigo,” he says, with an obvious lilt of amusement. “Night, Vas.”