“Your hand slipped,” he echoes, voice heavy with disbelief, but Vasquez gets back to it, interrupting any further complaints. Faraday grits his teeth, swallowing down the sounds of discomfort he wants to make. At length, though, the soreness of his leg dulls, and some of the tension freezing his frame falls away. He exhales slowly through his lips, and he props up his head with a hand, elbow resting against his good leg.
At Vasquez’s question, Faraday grunts quietly, apparently still inclined to keep up his own act. “It was fine before,” he grumbles unconvincingly; usually he has a better poker face than this, but he’s not particularly inclined to put in the effort, right now. “So it’s fine now.”
He should probably shove Vasquez away, now, should probably give him a cuff on the ear for explicitly ignoring Faraday’s insistence that he was fine, but he doesn’t. He lets Vasquez stay just as he is, hands warm against his leg, thumbs sweeping over that old knotted scar. Faraday swallows thickly, weariness evident in his posture, before he gives a quick sigh.
“What’s ‘nene’?” and he asks it flatly, knowing Vasquez was about as likely to answer as pigs were likely to fly.
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winterfish
no subject
Date: 2017-12-01 06:31 pm (UTC)At Vasquez’s question, Faraday grunts quietly, apparently still inclined to keep up his own act. “It was fine before,” he grumbles unconvincingly; usually he has a better poker face than this, but he’s not particularly inclined to put in the effort, right now. “So it’s fine now.”
He should probably shove Vasquez away, now, should probably give him a cuff on the ear for explicitly ignoring Faraday’s insistence that he was fine, but he doesn’t. He lets Vasquez stay just as he is, hands warm against his leg, thumbs sweeping over that old knotted scar. Faraday swallows thickly, weariness evident in his posture, before he gives a quick sigh.
“What’s ‘nene’?” and he asks it flatly, knowing Vasquez was about as likely to answer as pigs were likely to fly.