He turns to watch as Vasquez strides into the room, as he demonstrates how sturdy the bed is. Good workmanship, Faraday admits, though he can't exactly say he's an expert on the matter.

Vasquez's admission, however, earns the man a thoughtful, almost piercing stare – something watchful and considering, like he's trying to figure out a particularly difficult puzzle. It should be flattering, he thinks; the amount of work and care that went into the bed must mean Vasquez was thinking about Faraday a great deal, but a part of him is almost frustrated by the idea.

"I would've rather you come look for me," Faraday admits, turning to look at Vasquez properly. He leans his shoulder against the post, arms crossing over his chest. He takes a breath, then, shoving down the hurt he still feels and masking it behind a small, roguish smile.

"You've got a lot to make up for, you know."