[ Faraday's far more relieved than he can express that they're basically done.
Sure, they probably need to do a little more mingling, just to avoid making too abrupt of an exit, but otherwise, they're home free. And once they're back, Faraday will spoil the hell out of Jack with as many treats and walks as that monstrous dog could possibly want.
One single door lies between them and veritable freedom, and even before Vasquez finishes his question, Faraday's grinning as he readies his response.
Bourbon, obviously—
But he freezes just as Vasquez does, eyes wide and mind kicking into fight mode.
Except throwing punches is not a smart move, here, and Faraday knows it. He battles down that instinct, mind abuzz with activity as he glances over at Vasquez.
Statesman taught him a lot, of course. He owes them a great deal for pulling him out of the steep nosedive his life had become. Some of the shit they taught him was legitimately insane, like how to take a man out using something as mundane as a drinking straw, but they didn't teach him everything.
But then again, there was a great deal of overlap between the training he gained from Statesman and from the hard knocks of his life. How to shoot a gun. How to charm the pants off someone. How to throw off suspicion. How to get out of trouble.
How to make things so wildly uncomfortable that folks will practically pay you to let them wash their hands of it.
When he catches Vasquez's eye, he doesn't say a word. No time for it, really. Instead, he cuts the other man a look that preemptively begs forgiveness – a rare move, considering Faraday is hardly ever sorry for anything.
(His stomach twists and flutters with the knowledge of what he's about to do, and fucking Christ, he does not need this right now.)
He grabs Vasquez by the lapel and shoves him against the wall, his other hand slapping against the wall as he nearly unbalances himself in his hurry – his clumsiness, though, has the happy consequence of forcing him all the more into Vasquez's space. He spares one last apologetic wince before he kisses Vasquez, and with the speed of a horny teenager whose parents have just left home for a couple of hours, he licks past the seam of Vasquez's lips.
For this to work, this needs to look convincing right the fuck now. And he hopes to God that Vasquez doesn't just immediately shoot him for crossing the line. ]
no subject
Sure, they probably need to do a little more mingling, just to avoid making too abrupt of an exit, but otherwise, they're home free. And once they're back, Faraday will spoil the hell out of Jack with as many treats and walks as that monstrous dog could possibly want.
One single door lies between them and veritable freedom, and even before Vasquez finishes his question, Faraday's grinning as he readies his response.
Bourbon, obviously—
But he freezes just as Vasquez does, eyes wide and mind kicking into fight mode.
Except throwing punches is not a smart move, here, and Faraday knows it. He battles down that instinct, mind abuzz with activity as he glances over at Vasquez.
Statesman taught him a lot, of course. He owes them a great deal for pulling him out of the steep nosedive his life had become. Some of the shit they taught him was legitimately insane, like how to take a man out using something as mundane as a drinking straw, but they didn't teach him everything.
But then again, there was a great deal of overlap between the training he gained from Statesman and from the hard knocks of his life. How to shoot a gun. How to charm the pants off someone. How to throw off suspicion. How to get out of trouble.
How to make things so wildly uncomfortable that folks will practically pay you to let them wash their hands of it.
When he catches Vasquez's eye, he doesn't say a word. No time for it, really. Instead, he cuts the other man a look that preemptively begs forgiveness – a rare move, considering Faraday is hardly ever sorry for anything.
(His stomach twists and flutters with the knowledge of what he's about to do, and fucking Christ, he does not need this right now.)
He grabs Vasquez by the lapel and shoves him against the wall, his other hand slapping against the wall as he nearly unbalances himself in his hurry – his clumsiness, though, has the happy consequence of forcing him all the more into Vasquez's space. He spares one last apologetic wince before he kisses Vasquez, and with the speed of a horny teenager whose parents have just left home for a couple of hours, he licks past the seam of Vasquez's lips.
For this to work, this needs to look convincing right the fuck now. And he hopes to God that Vasquez doesn't just immediately shoot him for crossing the line. ]