Not nearly as much as I'd need to put up with the likes of you.
[ And even that particular barb is dulled, cast with a fondness Faraday is largely unconscious of – or at least, a fondness that Faraday doesn't feel the need to acknowledge. Exchanging these little verbal jabs in the same way young boys might shove at each other—
It's just— easy.
With all the damage he's taken, with all the scars the battle has surely left him with, both physical and mental – the time he's spent with someone who understands what it's like being a monster, knows what it's like to hide among folks who would fear and despise them if they knew the truth, has surely spoiled him.
And in the late hours between night and morning, when Vasquez is giving Faraday the gift of his time – even if that gift is filled with friendly insults, not all of it in English, made all the more annoying because Faraday can't properly respond – the idea of returning to his old, solitary life fills Faraday with a peculiar, breath-stealing, heart-stopping dread.
Which is why he does his best to avoid thinking on it during slightly more reasonable hours. ]
His own glass, predictably, is mostly empty, save for a mouthful that he quickly downs. He pauses to appreciate the sharp burn of the alcohol as it travels down his throat, as the familiar warmth of it sparks and blooms through his belly. He sighs, pouring himself another glass. ]
And I got a while yet 'fore I'm as corned as I need to be, anyhow.
no subject
[ And even that particular barb is dulled, cast with a fondness Faraday is largely unconscious of – or at least, a fondness that Faraday doesn't feel the need to acknowledge. Exchanging these little verbal jabs in the same way young boys might shove at each other—
It's just— easy.
With all the damage he's taken, with all the scars the battle has surely left him with, both physical and mental – the time he's spent with someone who understands what it's like being a monster, knows what it's like to hide among folks who would fear and despise them if they knew the truth, has surely spoiled him.
And in the late hours between night and morning, when Vasquez is giving Faraday the gift of his time – even if that gift is filled with friendly insults, not all of it in English, made all the more annoying because Faraday can't properly respond – the idea of returning to his old, solitary life fills Faraday with a peculiar, breath-stealing, heart-stopping dread.
Which is why he does his best to avoid thinking on it during slightly more reasonable hours. ]
His own glass, predictably, is mostly empty, save for a mouthful that he quickly downs. He pauses to appreciate the sharp burn of the alcohol as it travels down his throat, as the familiar warmth of it sparks and blooms through his belly. He sighs, pouring himself another glass. ]
And I got a while yet 'fore I'm as corned as I need to be, anyhow.