Vasquez isn't sure what state he's in, but delicate is more than a good enough description for the way he's sort of losing control of himself, his mind, his thoughts. He banishes all panic about Faraday being hurt because he's not. He's mended and healed and Vasquez is only working on him because he's in pain. Inhaling sharply, he then tries not to think about how close he is with Faraday.

"You're in pain," he snaps right back at him, as irritable as Faraday but probably not for the same reasons. Somehow in all this mess, Vasquez went and did the thing he swore he'd never do -- take responsibility for someone.

He has to bear in a little if Faraday wants him to go harder, not straddling him exactly, but looming above him as he moves his other hand there as well, massaging in slow, prodding movements, brushing his thumb in a slow gentle sweep right after when he's done before repeating the same, starting to move down the line of his outside thigh. "Okay, guapo?" he checks.