The minute the words pass by Faraday's lips, Josiah's shoulders seem to curve forward in on themselves, like he's hearing the last thing he'd wanted to hear. Sourly, he looks like he's having a private and internal war with himself, because as much as he wants to be able to believe that this is just for Faraday to go off charming someone else, he knows it's not that.
Some friend, is the clear thought that's running through his mind. "Darling. Dear. Sweetheart. Baby." The response is flat, with no emotion in his eyes. What little geniality he might have had has evaporated now that he has to give these translations.
Of course, whatever Josiah is feeling soon will become eclipsed. Vasquez has finished with the dishes, having stalled as long as he can, but he's on his way back when he hears Josiah speak in a hollow tone. "Must be someone pretty fond of you, if they're using endearments like that."
There's little to no guessing about what they're talking about, which gives Vasquez only a few options. He makes sure they can hear him coming with the drag of his boots, forcing himself to ignore his fear about what's coming next, deciding that it can't blow up in his face if he doesn't look at Faraday.
"Everything is clean," he says. "Thank you for the food," he says to Josiah, warmth in his voice despite the half-murderous look on his face for deciding to go and translate all those words for Faraday. He digs out a few coins to leave on the table, heart racing and head pounding as he tries to figure out his best route of escape -- get to the horse, load up, ride before he can get shot. Or maybe if he gets back to the room at the inn, there will be too many around for anything to happen. "I'm tired," is what he says, gesturing with little energy for the key. "I want to go lie down. Give me the key?"
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Some friend, is the clear thought that's running through his mind. "Darling. Dear. Sweetheart. Baby." The response is flat, with no emotion in his eyes. What little geniality he might have had has evaporated now that he has to give these translations.
Of course, whatever Josiah is feeling soon will become eclipsed. Vasquez has finished with the dishes, having stalled as long as he can, but he's on his way back when he hears Josiah speak in a hollow tone. "Must be someone pretty fond of you, if they're using endearments like that."
There's little to no guessing about what they're talking about, which gives Vasquez only a few options. He makes sure they can hear him coming with the drag of his boots, forcing himself to ignore his fear about what's coming next, deciding that it can't blow up in his face if he doesn't look at Faraday.
"Everything is clean," he says. "Thank you for the food," he says to Josiah, warmth in his voice despite the half-murderous look on his face for deciding to go and translate all those words for Faraday. He digs out a few coins to leave on the table, heart racing and head pounding as he tries to figure out his best route of escape -- get to the horse, load up, ride before he can get shot. Or maybe if he gets back to the room at the inn, there will be too many around for anything to happen. "I'm tired," is what he says, gesturing with little energy for the key. "I want to go lie down. Give me the key?"