The surprise that registers on his face is impossible to hide, no matter how much he tries. He'd been ready to pass off his offer as a stupid thing, but then Faraday is being agreeable, which leaves him dry-mouthed and empty-voiced for a moment. "It should be somewhere more private, I think," he manages, when words come back to him.

"Maybe a spare room here or at the brothel?" He wishes he hadn't made that offer, belatedly, but it's already out. His skin prickles with the heat of embarrassment and he's on his feet, glancing up the stairs and wondering if he should bother to suggest they go back up again. "Or you can try the stairs the other way. I could help, if you want it," he offers.

Faraday looks beyond tired, a feeling Vasquez understands intimately. He hadn't been lying when he said he wants to get out of town, but not until he's sure there's a safe path. The last thing he needs is someone getting word that Vasquez is travelling with a limping Irishman, ready to shoot on sight as soon as they hit the town borders.

It's probably not going to be a very different life for him, still needing to hide and being far from safe, but he's deluding himself into thinking it will all be better because of Faraday. Maybe he's drunken than he'd thought. "You choose, guero," he offers. "Where do we go?"