Vasquez's eyes are on Faraday's lips when he smokes, intent on watching the way they purse around his cigarette, the lingering attention he gives to it. He inhales sharply when he realizes he's jealous of his own cigarette, shaking his head and reaching out to take it from Faraday so that he can let it rest between his fingers, giving his horse a light prod to get moving again when Faraday is heading in the same direction.

"And cigarettes," he points out, "it would be a shame if we were to run out of cigarettes before the next town, not to mention other supplies." So helpful, so clever, he thinks he's being. He doesn't even stop to think about changing up his appearance or shaving or smoothing his hair back.

All that he wants is to get into town, find a private bedroom, and let Faraday pin him to the bed and start taking him apart. Leaning over on his saddle, just so he's closer to Faraday, he can't help the smug smirk on his lips, even if he's about to give Faraday a taste of what he wants.

"Please," he says, voice throaty and low. "I know you won't regret it, nene."