"Of course I don't want to stay," he snaps instantly, pinching the bridge of his nose before he turns back to the cigarette, cracking his neck back and forth as he tries to figure out something that he can actually do before Faraday drives him insane. He wants to go, but he can't physically go. "If we go, you will be hurt out there, then I can only do the things the doctor shows," Vasquez points out, pouring himself a new glass of whiskey like this will be the one that calms him down.

"You said it before. I stay, someone finds me, they shoot me and then I'm dead," he says, even saying the words makes him edgy and sharp. "I can get supplies, I can make sure we're ready to go, but guerito," he exhales, shaking his head. "If you're not ready, then what are we supposed to do?"

He says we through this all, because the truth is, he's not going back out there on his own. He's not sure he could bear the loneliness again, especially not after he's met men like the others. Especially not after he's met Faraday and learned how good it feels to bicker and push and prod, have someone who's willing to match and meet you at every step. There are other reasons he wants to keep Faraday close, but seeing as they are impossible dreams that will get him shot, Vasquez keeps those to himself.

"I could try and help," he offers, a last resort, "with the pain. I could use my hands, try and work some of the aches the drinking doesn't take away. If not that, then what? I'm bad at stitching," he warns. "You don't want to open up on my watch."