It’s for the best that Vasquez doesn’t reach for him right now. Faraday’s still a writhing, snapping ball of anger, and he’s not entirely sure how he might have reacted had Vasquez tried to touch him. His eyes are sharp, expression thunderous, and when Vasquez drops his hand, Faraday feels a bitter curl of satisfaction.

“Oh, my sincerest apologies,” and his words are imbued with every ounce of derision he can muster. He presses his hand to his chest, feigning a contrite posture even while his gaze still burns. “I had no idea you know so much better than I do about what’s good for me. Why, if that’s the case, I reckon I oughta be grateful that you abandoned me on the side of the road.”

He snorts out a disgusted noise, shaking his head as he rocks back. “You’re full of so much shit, Vasquez.”