Vasquez, now finished with buttoning himself, does exactly that and makes a moue of his lips as he wraps it around his hair like he's a little old lady. "What, like this?" he replies cheerfully, not even bothering to move an inch or dare to do anything that lets Faraday's eyes slip away from him.

Instead of tying it on himself, he crooks his fingers towards himself. "Come tie it how you want, I don't want to deal with your annoyed huffs and words when I do it the way you don't like," he says, aiming to hedge that off because if it happens, he's bound to roll his eyes until they fall out.

He slides his gun belt back on, draping the bandanna around the back of his neck as he reaches for some of the oil so he can rub it deep into his beard to tame it, and to the curls at the back of his head, which have grown unruly, almost long enough to pin up.