That was far from the answer Faraday had expected.
In fact, if he were in the habit of being honest, he’d admit that he expected Vasquez to brush him off, to insist that everything was fine, and that Faraday was jumping at shadows. It wouldn’t have been the first time Vasquez had lied to his face or, at the very least, shoved the truth to one side and avoided the topic entirely.
But he answers, and the way Vasquez turns his back on Faraday tells him that he’s being honest, and that fact alone punches the air from him. None of their usual bullshit, none of their usual artifice – just naked honesty that Faraday barely knows how to handle. He stares at Vasquez’s back, eyes wide and mouth open, stands there like he’s been shot in the gut, and the pain hasn’t settled just yet.
All this time, Faraday had been privately terrified that Vasquez would grow tired of him. That Vasquez would tired of his endless ribbing and complaining and his need to fill silence with mindless chatter. That Faraday’s occasional infirmity in the cold or after long bouts of riding, when they’d have to slow or stop traveling altogether, would grate on Vasquez’s nerves. That Vasquez would just get sick of him, like so many others had in the past.
Faraday’s always felt like the burden, here, and for a strange, breathless second, the ridiculousness of Vasquez uttering those words strikes him as funny.
“You’re an idiot,” he says, and the words fall from his lips before he can properly think on them, as so many of his comments do. His voice is brightened by a quiet wave of amusement. “You think dodgin’ a couple towns and keepin’ an eye out for trouble is really enough to drive me off?”
The two of them had spent a surreal, hellish week together, preparing for the battle in Rose Creek, and that had been impossible and about one of the worst experiences in his life. The constant competition of excitement and dread mixing with each passing minute would have made a lesser man run for the hills. But Faraday had stuck that out, though a part of him knew the others expected him to be the one to abandon the fight, out of any of the mismatched seven.
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winterfish
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 11:00 pm (UTC)In fact, if he were in the habit of being honest, he’d admit that he expected Vasquez to brush him off, to insist that everything was fine, and that Faraday was jumping at shadows. It wouldn’t have been the first time Vasquez had lied to his face or, at the very least, shoved the truth to one side and avoided the topic entirely.
But he answers, and the way Vasquez turns his back on Faraday tells him that he’s being honest, and that fact alone punches the air from him. None of their usual bullshit, none of their usual artifice – just naked honesty that Faraday barely knows how to handle. He stares at Vasquez’s back, eyes wide and mouth open, stands there like he’s been shot in the gut, and the pain hasn’t settled just yet.
All this time, Faraday had been privately terrified that Vasquez would grow tired of him. That Vasquez would tired of his endless ribbing and complaining and his need to fill silence with mindless chatter. That Faraday’s occasional infirmity in the cold or after long bouts of riding, when they’d have to slow or stop traveling altogether, would grate on Vasquez’s nerves. That Vasquez would just get sick of him, like so many others had in the past.
Faraday’s always felt like the burden, here, and for a strange, breathless second, the ridiculousness of Vasquez uttering those words strikes him as funny.
“You’re an idiot,” he says, and the words fall from his lips before he can properly think on them, as so many of his comments do. His voice is brightened by a quiet wave of amusement. “You think dodgin’ a couple towns and keepin’ an eye out for trouble is really enough to drive me off?”
The two of them had spent a surreal, hellish week together, preparing for the battle in Rose Creek, and that had been impossible and about one of the worst experiences in his life. The constant competition of excitement and dread mixing with each passing minute would have made a lesser man run for the hills. But Faraday had stuck that out, though a part of him knew the others expected him to be the one to abandon the fight, out of any of the mismatched seven.