"You got me out, but look at how we were living," he protests. Every time they wanted to go into a town, they had to go through a production of changing Vasquez's appearance, hoping no one recognized him, and if they didn't, then it was the open road and this is fine for some time, but he'd squatted with a corpse because he's a man who craves comfort when you get down to it.

"I asked you what you wanted, you haven't said," he challenges, crossing his arms over his torso as he leans back against the wall, his body language screaming that he's protecting himself with both the space and the shift between them. "You want us to be out in the wilderness, always? Never seeing towns, only each other for company, not a comfortable mattress or good hot meals to speak of," he points out bluntly.