Faraday’s frown deepens as he watches the other man. The man is acting as though Faraday’s discovered some old, embarrassing, childhood secret, with the way he’s posturing and steeling himself. If this is how Vasquez is going to react whenever Faraday takes a chance on being reasonable, Faraday’s not quite sure if he ought to agree with him more or less often. Admittedly, there is something a little funny about the way Vasquez falters, and even as Faraday watches Vasquez with narrowed eyes, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
And apparently the amusement is enough to smooth away the barbed mess of his pride, and he accepts Vasquez’s help up the stairs with little complaint, one arm slung over Vasquez’s shoulders. It’s just as well, considering the trek down had done few favors for his energy; by the time they reach the upper floor, Faraday is exhausted all over again, teeth clenched against the ache of his bad leg.
When they make it back to the privacy of Faraday’s room, Faraday collapses onto his bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He wipes at his brow with the back of his wrist, the knuckles of his other hand digging into the knotted muscle of his thigh.
As with most things, the pain just makes Faraday angry, and he grits out, “Damned leg.”
no subject
Faraday’s frown deepens as he watches the other man. The man is acting as though Faraday’s discovered some old, embarrassing, childhood secret, with the way he’s posturing and steeling himself. If this is how Vasquez is going to react whenever Faraday takes a chance on being reasonable, Faraday’s not quite sure if he ought to agree with him more or less often. Admittedly, there is something a little funny about the way Vasquez falters, and even as Faraday watches Vasquez with narrowed eyes, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
And apparently the amusement is enough to smooth away the barbed mess of his pride, and he accepts Vasquez’s help up the stairs with little complaint, one arm slung over Vasquez’s shoulders. It’s just as well, considering the trek down had done few favors for his energy; by the time they reach the upper floor, Faraday is exhausted all over again, teeth clenched against the ache of his bad leg.
When they make it back to the privacy of Faraday’s room, Faraday collapses onto his bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He wipes at his brow with the back of his wrist, the knuckles of his other hand digging into the knotted muscle of his thigh.
As with most things, the pain just makes Faraday angry, and he grits out, “Damned leg.”