He observes Vasquez, eyes narrowed and unblinking – not the gaze he uses at card tables, but the gaze he uses in the seconds before a duel, watchful and wary and waiting for that twitch of movement that signals the other man means to draw. Whatever it is that Faraday reads seems to satisfy him, and Faraday sits up. He almost looks smug, having apparently driven to the heart of the matter.
“There,” he says with a crooked, self-satisfied smile. “Was that so difficult, admitting that?”
But Vasquez seems to be sinking back into the dark waters of that mood again, and Faraday leans over, poking Vasquez in the arm.
“You coulda come with me, you know,” Faraday says breezily. “Small town like that, I doubt anyone would recognize you in the slightest.” Faraday pauses, then continues on with a shit-eating grin, “And if you walk in with me, I doubt anyone would look at you twice.”
no subject
“There,” he says with a crooked, self-satisfied smile. “Was that so difficult, admitting that?”
But Vasquez seems to be sinking back into the dark waters of that mood again, and Faraday leans over, poking Vasquez in the arm.
“You coulda come with me, you know,” Faraday says breezily. “Small town like that, I doubt anyone would recognize you in the slightest.” Faraday pauses, then continues on with a shit-eating grin, “And if you walk in with me, I doubt anyone would look at you twice.”