Faraday may be thick sometimes, but over the years, he's become a fair hand at reading people. Marking out changes in their body language, noticing subtle tics. Which means that everything that Vasquez is doing, right now, screams at Faraday that something was different about that nickname – insult? – as he had figured earlier.
Vasquez is lying, that much he can tell. But what is there to lie about?
As Vasquez stands, Faraday studies him, eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down. A familiar look, considering Faraday uses it often when he's marking out a target. (He abruptly feels the loss of Vasquez's hands, almost like a punch in the gut, but he tries not to think too hard on that.) As the other man turns away, Faraday carefully stretches out his bad leg, his own palm running over the old scar.
The attempt to change the topic is glaringly obvious – a roaring fire in a pitch black night – and Faraday continues to frown at him.
He slowly asks, "Why aren't you tellin' me what all those names mean?"
no subject
Vasquez is lying, that much he can tell. But what is there to lie about?
As Vasquez stands, Faraday studies him, eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down. A familiar look, considering Faraday uses it often when he's marking out a target. (He abruptly feels the loss of Vasquez's hands, almost like a punch in the gut, but he tries not to think too hard on that.) As the other man turns away, Faraday carefully stretches out his bad leg, his own palm running over the old scar.
The attempt to change the topic is glaringly obvious – a roaring fire in a pitch black night – and Faraday continues to frown at him.
He slowly asks, "Why aren't you tellin' me what all those names mean?"