“In fairness to my idea,” Faraday says with a bright, cheeky grin, “they’d be so focused on the state of you that I doubt anyone’d think about that bounty on your head.”

Faraday waves Vasquez off when the other man hovers at Jack’s side, something dismissive and fondly irritated. Faraday eases himself down under his own power, though he his bad leg hitches a little as he pulls it up and over the saddle. Once Vasquez’s back is turned, and once he’s washing his face with a bit of the water, Faraday tries to subtly stretch out his leg, hanging onto the pommel of Jack’s saddle to keep himself balanced.

By the time Vasquez has finished and has turned to his bags, Faraday does the same with his own. He fishes through to find the shirt in question and lets out a quick whistle to get Vasquez’s attention before tossing it over.

As an afterthought, Faraday digs through his bags again, pulling out a spare bandanna, much like the one Faraday currently has knotted at his throat, and holding it out for Vasquez.

“Put that on, too.”