Vasquez keeps his head bowed down, trying not to let any emotion into his face because he regrets that word completely. It's too personal, too much, and it had slipped out in a fit of emotion when he'd worried about hurting Faraday. His head still bowed low, he keeps brushing his thumb in steady strokes, trying not to make it seem like he's doing this for himself (but he is).

"It's just a Mexican insult," he tries to pass it off, but there are tells. He says 'Mexican', not Spanish. He doesn't look up and give Faraday a steely-eyed dare to counter him. There are so many ways for Faraday to see through him, but he's tired and he'd felt bad, and honestly, he's starting to realize that the more names he brings up, the more trouble he's going to be in.

Faraday is going to find someone who speaks Spanish, he's going to find out.

The last Vasquez can do is be ready to ride his horse out as quickly as possible. Squeezing Faraday's thigh, then his hip, he thinks that he needs to let go and he reluctantly takes his hand away, brushing dirt off his knees as he settles by the dwindled fire, trying not to panic. "I think maybe it's better than fine," he says, being deliberately difficult to steer them away from him calling Faraday 'baby' under the guise of Spanish. "I think maybe you don't know how to say 'thank you, Alejandro, thank you for putting up with me'," he mimics mockingly.