The question kicks up a spark in Faraday’s chest, ignites a sort of excitement he hasn’t felt for a long while. Rose Creek is nice enough, to be sure, and the folks are fine people, battered as they are by the indignities of the late Bogue’s abuse and by the single day of battle. Not a man came out of that fight unscathed, even if they might have come out of it unwounded. But they’re simple farmers, as Emma Cullen once claimed them to be; they lacked that dangerous streak that ran through every man in Chisolm’s mercenary army. It didn’t make them boring, exactly, in Faraday’s eyes, but it certainly put a wall between him and anyone else here.

But the thought of finally leaving, of finally hitting the road and stirring up trouble, makes him grin. Faraday is excited in a way he hasn’t been in a long while. And more than that, the idea of setting out with Vasquez, infuriating and obnoxious as he surely is, feels like a luxury he hasn’t enjoyed in a ages.

(In the words of one Goodnight Robicheaux, “This is not going to end well.”)

“Tomorrow?” he suggests – though that’s far too soon, in all likelihood. They need to prepare for the road, buy up supplies, replenish their ammo. Maybe other men might take the time to say their goodbyes, but the idea hardly occurs to Faraday; before this, he’s never had anyone to leave behind. “And don’t you try to swipe from me, either. I remember how much I’m owed.”

Though there’s no real heat behind the words. He trusts Vasquez.