peacemakers: (040)
ᴊᴏsʜ ғᴀʀᴀᴅᴀʏ ([personal profile] peacemakers) wrote in [personal profile] quinientos 2018-06-22 03:46 pm (UTC)

Faraday duly ignores the death glare Vasquez sends his way – it’s nothing too different from the norm, at any rate – and he shoves the door open. Slipping the key ring over his wrist, he enters the cell and looks Vasquez over. Nothing life-threatening, that he can see, which tells him his captors intended to keep Vasquez alive and well for transport.

Hardly a comfort, honestly.

He slips his knife from its sheath, examining Vasquez’s wrists for the easiest section to cut. Looks like Vasquez got something of a head start, and Faraday carefully moves to work at the same section. He lets Vasquez speak, but he pauses when he hears a strange quality to the other man’s voice, a strange little hitch in his breath, and Faraday looks up from his work, startled.

“Vas,” he murmurs, an worry flares in his gut, cold and bitter. He reaches up his free hand, resting a rough palm against Vasquez’s cheek. His thumb gently brushes just beneath the worst of the bruising around Vasquez’s eye. “Hey, darlin’. C’mon. Look at me.”

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