There's that word again, carino, and Faraday casts the other man a dark, unimpressed look for it. Clearly, not knowing what it means is far more annoying than the use of the word; Vasquez could happily call Faraday a bastard, an idiot, a fool, and Faraday would hardly bat an eye. The mystery proves to be far more frustrating.

Vasquez may have a point, Faraday silently concedes. May have, but stubborn mule that he is, Faraday will never cop to it. Instead, he huffs out an impatient breath, waving his hand at Vasquez's tone – somehow both level and sharp at once – and gives one last full-bodied stretch.

He does, however, take a seat beside Vasquez – not because he needs the help, of course (of course), but because he's simply finished with being on his feet.

"I see that, yes," Faraday replies evenly, if not a little skeptically. He casts Vasquez a sidelong glance before yawning; he still hasn't quite chased away his own sleeplessness.

"You sure you wanna head in there?" Apparently for all of Faraday's boasting yesterday, he's staring to have second thoughts – especially considering a wrong step might remind the world of that reward on Vasquez's head. "It ain't much to look at."