Vasquez's shit-eating smirks have only grown worse whenever he can get a visible rise out of Faraday, so when he colors, Vasquez feels vindicated and pleased, though he clearly hasn't won him over all the way yet. He's still stopped on the road, still not riding back with him. Getting as close as he can manage, he strikes up his match and lights the cigarette, head bowed low beneath his hat.

When it's lit, he lifts his head and inhales a few times, handing the cigarette over to Faraday so he can have a turn, but also press his lips to something that just had Vasquez's lips on it, the most daring he'll get about that in public (even with no one else around, because you never know).

Which brings him to his point -- there's always a risk, out here. Even with sleeping, there's too much cold and space between them, too much for him to want.

"Come back to town with me and I'll beg as much as you like," Vasquez guarantees, a hungry look on his face. "Maybe I'll just go without you, sneak into one of the inns, take myself up a room and get a peaceful night's sleep," he suggests, as if he's ever actually going to do that (it's bullshit and Faraday knows it, but he still presents the bluff). "Have some fun all on my own...?"