Vasquez is still on edge, yes, of course, but when Faraday drapes an arm around him, that doesn't make his tension go away so much as it amps it up in a different way. Shocked at the touch, he momentarily forgets himself and presses a hand to the small of Faraday's back, like he's guiding him along, taking whatever little touches and sneaks that he can. Everyone in town, he looks at a little too long, wondering which of the pretty young girls is Henrietta, which he needs to be worried about.

Still, as he breathes out slowly, the warmth of Faraday's arm over his shoulder starts to shut down the more frantic parts of his brain, trying not to feel nervous, but it's been a long time and last time, he had at least six other people watching his back and they'd needed him.

"They're staring because I'm Mexican, cabron, I know that," he mutters back, gritting his teeth. "Still doesn't mean I have to like it." The good news is that no one is pulling out a warrant, no one is pointing at him. Heading towards the inn, he moves his hand to Faraday's hip, squeezing a little to give him a little help up the stairs.

Or maybe it's just for him, a brief reassurance to Faraday in lieu of being given one himself. "Come on, carino," he says, swallowing back whatever other words, the nickname slipping out in the face of his worry. "Get us some rooms."