Vasquez very nearly walks away, lets himself believe that Faraday has healed enough that he's back to normal. He could pretend that, but he would be living in denial. There's a pain flickering over Faraday's face that doesn't let him get away with these stories, unfortunately, listening warily to the way the wood creaks, but it's not until later that Vasquez realizes that he should have been worried to begin with.

Letting out a mild sound of alarm when Faraday stumbles, his instincts kick in. He's grateful that he'd made it to the flat floor of the bottom, but he's still not expecting a man as wide and big as Faraday to come tripping into him. The force of it nearly sends him to the ground, hissing and cursing in Spanish, but there's something more worrisome to be said for their current position.

In his desperation to stop the fall, Vasquez has needed to use both hands, their bodies flush together to prevent him from getting knocked to the floor. The thumb of one hand is pressed to the small of Faraday's back, the other higher up on his back. With alarm, he thinks about how no one has been this close, not even Faraday himself when he's at his side. It's not that he minds it (and he should ask himself why, why he doesn't mind it, why he likes it, why that rush of adrenaline pulses through him and that heat rises in his belly), but they're in public.

"Can you stand?" Vasquez asks, not daring to let go of Faraday just yet, but the words are pitched so low that they're private. His breath is heavy, like he's the one doing the labouring, and he's so close.