Vasquez can't help but raise his brows. "You know," he says, casually, "you shouldn't say things like that to an author of romance novels." He smirks as he gives Faraday an amused, flirty look. "Bad position," he echoes, making the quotation marks around it.

"If you have a nice cozy jacket, I wouldn't mind it." He also wouldn't mind being able to get the smell of it in his nose, curled in and feeling safe and protected, but he's not saying that part.