“I’m certainly seein’ that,” Faraday replies with a laugh – which is his way of accepting the bare apology – and he watches Vasquez with undisguised amusement. The sun is well and truly gone, by now, and the fire sheds the both of them in a warm glow. The heat of the day still lingers in the dirt, in the rocks, but nightfall brings with it a bare, cool breeze.

Vasquez continues on – because of course he does; too much time at the bottle makes them both chatty bastards – and Faraday’s eyebrows rise when Vasquez mentions being jealous. It quickly turns into a frown, and he wonders what the hell would Vasquez have to be jealous of. Years and years sitting at card tables means that Faraday’s a fair hand at reading people, at observing their body language. The way Vasquez tenses, the way he jolts up like he’s been struck by lightning, tells Faraday that the man realizes he’s shared more than he meant to. Faraday studies him by the orange cast of the fire, trying to puzzle out what Vasquez could possibly mean.

Faraday can spot these things, sure, but actually interpreting things is an entirely different matter.

For a few seconds, Faraday chews over the words, confused. It could easily be explained away as the ramblings of a drunkard, but Vasquez has been in one hell of a state since Faraday returned. Curiosity makes him want to get to the core of things.

“Why would you be jealous?” he asks slowly. His own eyes narrow as he continues watching the other man. He pauses again before asking, “Is it ‘cause I can go into town, and you can’t?”

Not that many of the places they visit to resupply are much to look at.