At least, he’s right about Faraday not wanting to live some simple farming life. He’d never had the constitution to stay in one place, if he’s honest. He could only stand rooting himself in a town for a few days, a week at best, before he felt that familiar itch to wander.
He keeps his jaw clenched as Vasquez rails, eyes still blazing with unruly anger. He’s mad as hell, that much is certain. He’s mad at Vasquez for pulling this shit on him. He’s mad at their pasts for putting them in this position. He’s even a little mad at himself, for not wanting to settle, for giving so much of a shit about Vasquez that this whole thing festers like an open wound, when he never gave a shit about folks leaving him before.
Faraday’s just— mad.
Vasquez finishes, and Faraday practically snarls, now that he can get a word in edgewise.
“Stop tryin’ to tell me what I want,” he snaps. And he’s almost sure they’ve been here before, have growled and postured and circled one another like wild animals. The familiarity of it does nothing to calm him. “You ever stop to think that maybe – just maybe – I wanted a say in all this? Instead, you just run off like a goddamn coward, pattin’ yourself on the back ‘cause you thought you were doin’ some noble thing.”
Finally, Faraday storms forward, closing the space between them. He jabs a finger into Vasquez’s chest.
“You keep sayin’ you did this ‘cause of me, but I didn’t ask you to do a single thing, did I? I didn’t ask you to go, and I sure as hell didn’t ask you to hide from me. And if you’d just asked me, I would’a told you that I didn’t want some goddamn Ethel. I would’a told you I didn’t wanna be a farmer, sure, but you would’a known that I wanted you.”
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winterfish
no subject
Date: 2018-11-06 11:40 pm (UTC)At least, he’s right about Faraday not wanting to live some simple farming life. He’d never had the constitution to stay in one place, if he’s honest. He could only stand rooting himself in a town for a few days, a week at best, before he felt that familiar itch to wander.
He keeps his jaw clenched as Vasquez rails, eyes still blazing with unruly anger. He’s mad as hell, that much is certain. He’s mad at Vasquez for pulling this shit on him. He’s mad at their pasts for putting them in this position. He’s even a little mad at himself, for not wanting to settle, for giving so much of a shit about Vasquez that this whole thing festers like an open wound, when he never gave a shit about folks leaving him before.
Faraday’s just— mad.
Vasquez finishes, and Faraday practically snarls, now that he can get a word in edgewise.
“Stop tryin’ to tell me what I want,” he snaps. And he’s almost sure they’ve been here before, have growled and postured and circled one another like wild animals. The familiarity of it does nothing to calm him. “You ever stop to think that maybe – just maybe – I wanted a say in all this? Instead, you just run off like a goddamn coward, pattin’ yourself on the back ‘cause you thought you were doin’ some noble thing.”
Finally, Faraday storms forward, closing the space between them. He jabs a finger into Vasquez’s chest.
“You keep sayin’ you did this ‘cause of me, but I didn’t ask you to do a single thing, did I? I didn’t ask you to go, and I sure as hell didn’t ask you to hide from me. And if you’d just asked me, I would’a told you that I didn’t want some goddamn Ethel. I would’a told you I didn’t wanna be a farmer, sure, but you would’a known that I wanted you.”