Every time Faraday gets a decent distance from the door, Vasquez judges it like he's going to try and make an escape attempt. He could always decide to burst through the window and run, but he thinks that would call attention to himself in ways he's trying to avoid. Not to mention, he's an idiot willing to sit here and listen to Faraday be mad at him, maybe because he knows it's his due.
He's the one who's made this bed, now he has to lie in it. "I didn't lie to you," he snaps, leveraging himself onto his feet. Not for the first time, he wishes he were taller than Faraday by more than a few inches, because he wants to loom and intimidate, but Faraday is nearly of a height. Yanking at his hat and shoving it on the table, he gives him a disbelieving look. "Not telling you is not lying," he snaps.
He doesn't make a crack about how stupid he thinks Faraday can be sometimes, because they're not joking anymore.
"What the fuck do you want me to say? No, I didn't think you'd put it all together because I'm better at hiding it," he says, irritated that he's started to slip and get too comfortable. He's already thinking about all the things that will slip away from him, how he won't be able to help with Faraday's leg anymore, how sleeping at night will grow awkward, and he feels his stomach churning as he realizes that it is for the best that they part ways. "Don't call me dumb," he hisses at him. "How many women do you call sweetheart and darling," he challenges. "Hmm? I know you do, I've heard it. Unless you mean something when you use it? So why should my words be different?"
He's acting like they aren't, but he's heatedly arguing now, because he wants to believe that the truth could've come out without ruining everything the way it has.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
winterfish
no subject
Date: 2018-01-05 01:34 am (UTC)He's the one who's made this bed, now he has to lie in it. "I didn't lie to you," he snaps, leveraging himself onto his feet. Not for the first time, he wishes he were taller than Faraday by more than a few inches, because he wants to loom and intimidate, but Faraday is nearly of a height. Yanking at his hat and shoving it on the table, he gives him a disbelieving look. "Not telling you is not lying," he snaps.
He doesn't make a crack about how stupid he thinks Faraday can be sometimes, because they're not joking anymore.
"What the fuck do you want me to say? No, I didn't think you'd put it all together because I'm better at hiding it," he says, irritated that he's started to slip and get too comfortable. He's already thinking about all the things that will slip away from him, how he won't be able to help with Faraday's leg anymore, how sleeping at night will grow awkward, and he feels his stomach churning as he realizes that it is for the best that they part ways. "Don't call me dumb," he hisses at him. "How many women do you call sweetheart and darling," he challenges. "Hmm? I know you do, I've heard it. Unless you mean something when you use it? So why should my words be different?"
He's acting like they aren't, but he's heatedly arguing now, because he wants to believe that the truth could've come out without ruining everything the way it has.