Vasquez

"Good, I'm very drunk," he tells Faraday seriously, as if this is something that he can't tell for himself with his own two eyes. He keeps the bread for himself, staring at it for a long moment like he's trying to puzzle it out, before chewing at it using both hands, stuffing his cheeks like a chipmunk before swallowing it back, trying to bypass the dizzy feeling swarming him, making him think and want stupid things. Then again, he wants them when he's sober, he's just better at hiding them.

"I got too drunk," he says, which is as close to apology as Faraday is going to get. Unfortunately, he's still a little too hazy to know what's a thought and what's out loud, which is why as he sprawls next to the fire, pushing another log onto it, what slips out isn't meant to, but does anyway. "Would've been better if I wasn't so jealous, it's like a wet cat, like you say," he says with a gesture to him, continuing to gnaw on the bread.

Narrowing his eyes, he sits up a little sharply when he tracks back over his words, thinking no, no, no, and startled into silence. No, he wouldn't have noticed. It's Faraday, he has no eye for that sort of thing, he hasn't been suspicious. It's fine, it will be fine, he tells himself.