Vasquez's eyes widen for the briefest of moments and it takes all of his attention not to let his cigarette fall out of his fingers when Faraday asks that. He would have to zero in on the one terrible question that's bound to lead them down an awkward path. Faraday knows him well enough to know when he lies, so he knows that he can't win by presenting lies.
What he can do is try and aggravate Faraday until he gets so angry, so furious, that maybe he forgets the question to begin with. He keeps asking himself the same question, why he won't go upstairs and indulge, and he thinks that he knows why.
Strangely, in the face of options lying and enraging Faraday, Vasquez opts instead for the truth. "I'm tired of something empty," is what he says, feeling exhausted. "Just as much as responsibility weights me down and scares me, Rose Creek and what happened showed me that if I die tomorrow, then I die without knowing what so many others do." Then again, he knows some of it, because he knows what he feels. He just doesn't have the experience of it to warm him on cold nights out on the road, aching with loneliness and touch-starved apart from when Faraday indulges him.
"Josiah, Henrietta, they're not what I want," he says, shaking his head vigorously as he smokes his cigarette, stretching his legs a little as if he's debating an escape he's going to make. "That's all, querido, leave it be," he coaxes tiredly, even though he suspects that's the last thing Faraday will do. "Maybe, sometime, after a fight, I will be so pent up and riled, then I will let someone take me in a back room." He shrugs as he says it. "Tonight? It's very rude to bring a lover back to a shared room, isn't it," he adds, setting aside his cigarette so he can stuff his face with food before he says anything more.
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What he can do is try and aggravate Faraday until he gets so angry, so furious, that maybe he forgets the question to begin with. He keeps asking himself the same question, why he won't go upstairs and indulge, and he thinks that he knows why.
Strangely, in the face of options lying and enraging Faraday, Vasquez opts instead for the truth. "I'm tired of something empty," is what he says, feeling exhausted. "Just as much as responsibility weights me down and scares me, Rose Creek and what happened showed me that if I die tomorrow, then I die without knowing what so many others do." Then again, he knows some of it, because he knows what he feels. He just doesn't have the experience of it to warm him on cold nights out on the road, aching with loneliness and touch-starved apart from when Faraday indulges him.
"Josiah, Henrietta, they're not what I want," he says, shaking his head vigorously as he smokes his cigarette, stretching his legs a little as if he's debating an escape he's going to make. "That's all, querido, leave it be," he coaxes tiredly, even though he suspects that's the last thing Faraday will do. "Maybe, sometime, after a fight, I will be so pent up and riled, then I will let someone take me in a back room." He shrugs as he says it. "Tonight? It's very rude to bring a lover back to a shared room, isn't it," he adds, setting aside his cigarette so he can stuff his face with food before he says anything more.