The hesitation before Vasquez speaks seems a bit telling, and the frown stays fixed on Faraday's face. The other man offers his explanation, and judging by the skeptical look Faraday casts him, Faraday seems to number himself among those who disagree with this physician.
"Sounds like it'd just make things worse," he says slowly. If the muscle already aches, Faraday's not entirely certain if poking at it will make things much better. Then again, Faraday's not qualified to offer his thoughts on most things, aside from shooting or gambling, so what does he know?
He rolls his eyes at Vasquez's joke. "I can think of at least a dozen mugs a far sight easier on the eyes than yours, amigo," Faraday says, giving a vague wave of his hand toward the front door of the establishment. (Granted, he can think of them – a number of them were saloon girls whose name he's half-forgotten with time – but it doesn't necessarily mean he'd prefer their company to Vasquez's. But hell if he'll let the bastard know that.)
Faraday lets out a sigh, scrubbing at his face.
"So?" and the word comes out on an exhale. "We givin' this a shot?"
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"Sounds like it'd just make things worse," he says slowly. If the muscle already aches, Faraday's not entirely certain if poking at it will make things much better. Then again, Faraday's not qualified to offer his thoughts on most things, aside from shooting or gambling, so what does he know?
He rolls his eyes at Vasquez's joke. "I can think of at least a dozen mugs a far sight easier on the eyes than yours, amigo," Faraday says, giving a vague wave of his hand toward the front door of the establishment. (Granted, he can think of them – a number of them were saloon girls whose name he's half-forgotten with time – but it doesn't necessarily mean he'd prefer their company to Vasquez's. But hell if he'll let the bastard know that.)
Faraday lets out a sigh, scrubbing at his face.
"So?" and the word comes out on an exhale. "We givin' this a shot?"