Date: 2017-10-05 09:07 pm (UTC)
quinientos: (sombre)
From: [personal profile] quinientos
"Yes," Vasquez lies, through his teeth, and if he were sober, he might even have done it well. He'd spent a long time as an outlaw thieving and hiding and lying, to the point that he got very good at it, but he's been softened up now by being around so many other people. He knows that he's in no state to lie the way he used to, so when he lies now, he worries it's not very convincing. "Yes," he keeps going, because he's already committed to this rabbit hole.

"It's because I can't. You can, that's, it's that," he says, like if he seizes on that hard enough, it's going to help his case instead of making it worse. He tears off another bite of bread with his teeth, chewing and swallowing while not taking his eyes off Faraday, hoping that he's buying this.

Breathing out like he's managed to get away with it, he leans back to let his hat topple off and fall onto his pack, digging through to put away the bottle and drag out a jacket he'd yanked off one of the many dead men in Rose Creek before they'd left. He yanks it over his shoulders as he slumps down, aware that he's sulking like a child, all because he's an idiot who drank too much because...

Ugh, he can barely even think it when he's sober, but drunk, he knows why. He'd missed Faraday's company. He'd been jealous of another woman's hands and lips and smell all over him, like he's some pathetic touch-starved child. Burying his nose in the jacket, he wishes that all of that weren't true, but it is.
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Vasquez

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