Guilt spikes through him again as Vasquez continues on. (Briefly, Faraday wonders if he’s ever like this when he’s drunk, though there’s little chance of this ever serving as a wake-up call for him.) The man is drunk, and he’s clearly spouting off information to which Faraday shouldn’t be privy; then again, that was without a doubt the kindest thing Vasquez has ever said to him, for all that it sounded like some sort of backhanded compliment and self-deprecation wrapped up in one, and he tucks the information away for later.
He watches as Vasquez sways, as he stumbles over his words, all with a faint sort of amusement on his face. When Vasquez continues on in his native tongue, Faraday’s nose wrinkles.
“I got no idea what you just said,” he tells the other man cheerfully, though Faraday grants that’s probably for the best. The outlaw’s already shared far more than he intended to share. Faraday watches, chin propped up by his palm and cup of whiskey balanced on his knee, as Vasquez rummages through his rations and produces the bread. Faraday holds up his free hand, refusing the offer. “You eat it. Maybe it’ll sop up all that liquor you got in your gut.”
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winterfish
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Date: 2017-10-03 11:51 pm (UTC)He watches as Vasquez sways, as he stumbles over his words, all with a faint sort of amusement on his face. When Vasquez continues on in his native tongue, Faraday’s nose wrinkles.
“I got no idea what you just said,” he tells the other man cheerfully, though Faraday grants that’s probably for the best. The outlaw’s already shared far more than he intended to share. Faraday watches, chin propped up by his palm and cup of whiskey balanced on his knee, as Vasquez rummages through his rations and produces the bread. Faraday holds up his free hand, refusing the offer. “You eat it. Maybe it’ll sop up all that liquor you got in your gut.”