Vasquez tries not to make a face, because while he knows the reason for the subterfuge, he dislikes very much when his name is not on Faraday's mouth, even if it's an alias. He hears it again and again and when he feels extra stupid, he says, "You could also just call me Ale, or Alejo," he offers, seeing as no one know that apart from his family and there's a fat chance they'll be here.

"If it's easier." And then it will be his name on Faraday's lips, not some alias, not someone else. He's now jealous of himself, which is so stupid that he must have not slept enough, clearly. Still, the town's presence is overwhelming him and he doesn't much care as soon as he reaches the outskirts.

Paranoia swoops in, as expected. He feels like everyone is staring (which they probably are, he doesn't have to be recognized to be stared at because most little towns don't like a Mexican in them), and as he dismounts the horse, his eyes are bright as he takes in the crush of people, the sound of them, the movement. It's not a big town, but it's enough.

"Rooms, food, then saloon," he says, figuring that's a decent order of business, tying his horse up near the trough to let her get some water, drifting into the town and trying not to instantly let his hand go to his pistols.

Glancing back for Faraday, he gives him an excited nod, trying to get him to hurry. "If you'd come faster, my stomach wouldn't have to worry, then I could get something in me after we get rooms." He figures he owes Faraday a peaceful night of sleep, despite the little voice in his head that says, he might take her to his bed, this could be a very bad idea, but if that happens, Vasquez will just have to get blazingly drunk.