Vasquez wishes that Faraday's answer didn't get him so annoyed. "Fine," he snaps back, snippy and annoyed. He drains back half of his glass of whiskey, glaring at Faraday from over it, not sure why he's upset that Faraday doesn't care, so why should he?
When the barkeep signals to him, Vasquez scrapes his chair as he stands, one hand firmly on Faraday's shoulders while he heads to the back kitchen with the barkeep so he can fetch the plates of food.
"Choose what you want," he says, to Vasquez's delight.
He pries biscuits and breads from the table, fresh and hot fried meats, and as much vegetables as he can lade down on two plates. When he steps back towards the main room, the barkeep stops him by the door and for a moment, Vasquez wonders if he needs to go for his guns. Luckily, it turns out his life is in no danger, only his virtue.
"Maybe after, you might want to take advantage of our rooms?" he offers, a pointed look sliding over him.
He could, but should he? It's not that Faraday is likely willing to give him this (and if he's honest, he's after a lot more than a quick tumble, has been deep in his own feelings for so, so long). Letting out a reluctant sound of disappointment, he thinks that his need for touch will have to continue unsatisfied. "I'm here with a friend," Vasquez says apologetically. "Maybe, if I come back on my own..." He tries to keep the promise open, because he wants his food and his drink.
"Maybe," the barkeep agrees. "I'm Josiah, by the way."
"Ale," he offers, knowing that he's only being so kind to get something, but it feels good to talk to someone and not expect to be hanged.
He pushes back into the dining room to settle the plates back to their table, settling into his chair to chew a biscuit thoughtfully, staring at Faraday for a long moment, wondering why he lets Faraday get under his skin so much. No, that's a lie. He knows why, but he needs to stop letting it, when he's struggling against something that's useless. "Eat your food, querido," he instructs. "Since my chatting up got us these portions."
no subject
When the barkeep signals to him, Vasquez scrapes his chair as he stands, one hand firmly on Faraday's shoulders while he heads to the back kitchen with the barkeep so he can fetch the plates of food.
"Choose what you want," he says, to Vasquez's delight.
He pries biscuits and breads from the table, fresh and hot fried meats, and as much vegetables as he can lade down on two plates. When he steps back towards the main room, the barkeep stops him by the door and for a moment, Vasquez wonders if he needs to go for his guns. Luckily, it turns out his life is in no danger, only his virtue.
"Maybe after, you might want to take advantage of our rooms?" he offers, a pointed look sliding over him.
He could, but should he? It's not that Faraday is likely willing to give him this (and if he's honest, he's after a lot more than a quick tumble, has been deep in his own feelings for so, so long). Letting out a reluctant sound of disappointment, he thinks that his need for touch will have to continue unsatisfied. "I'm here with a friend," Vasquez says apologetically. "Maybe, if I come back on my own..." He tries to keep the promise open, because he wants his food and his drink.
"Maybe," the barkeep agrees. "I'm Josiah, by the way."
"Ale," he offers, knowing that he's only being so kind to get something, but it feels good to talk to someone and not expect to be hanged.
He pushes back into the dining room to settle the plates back to their table, settling into his chair to chew a biscuit thoughtfully, staring at Faraday for a long moment, wondering why he lets Faraday get under his skin so much. No, that's a lie. He knows why, but he needs to stop letting it, when he's struggling against something that's useless. "Eat your food, querido," he instructs. "Since my chatting up got us these portions."