[ He eyes the bit of silver, nodding his approval, but something strikes him as off for a brief second. Hazy as he is with the whiskey, with the impending change, he frowns as he tries to work it out.
A little wryly, ]
Not much for it, 'less you've got a way to make it so I never got bit.
[ But that bare bit of humor drops away as he gives Vasquez a once-over of his own, jaw working to one side as he thinks.
It strikes him after a second or two, and Faraday goes rigid with the realization. ]
[ Faraday absolutely means to argue, throat working to summon up a few more insults, to question Vasquez's wisdom and intelligence.
But something in him lurches, and he sucks in a startled breath, gracelessly dropping back to the floor. Still a few more moments before sunset, but it's not nearly enough time to make it to the boardinghouse, find Sam, and make it back to the shed. ]
Jesus wept.
[ This, as he's working to yank off his shirt. ]
You're a goddamn idiot. You got no one to blame but yourself if this all goes sideways.
[ And he tosses his shirt away. These days, he doesn't look like he went a few rounds with a speeding locomotive and lost. He's healed far faster than he had any right to, but the wounds are still tender, still like to shriek at him – as if he needs the reminder to stay the hell away from any more silver bullets. ]
He's pissed. The sun hasn't even set, and the evening already isn't going the way he figured it would. He figured Vasquez would have the good sense – and the self of preservation – to keep his guns on him, to have those silver bullets chambered and ready for the wolf.
Obviously Faraday doesn't want to go through the experience of getting shot again, assuming he survives it, but he's always prided himself on being practical. If faced with a bloodthirsty, nearly unstoppable monster, it's always wisest to arm yourself with what can stop it.
He works at the fastening of his jeans. ]
For the record, Sam's gonna think you're a goddamn idiot, too. And if we both come back from this, I ain't explainin' to him why you're missin' half your body.
[ Maybe? Vasquez has never lost an appendage to test the theory, and he's content to continue that pattern.
But he still doesn't think he needs the silver bullets. He's confident that he can physically handle the wolf, and with Faraday's consent, he has few compunctions about sinking his teeth into the wolf to let it tire itself out with anemia. ]
[ Vasquez snorts out a short laugh, giving Faraday a pat on the shoulder as he gets to his feet. ]
Have a little faith, my friend.
[ He doesn't expect the evening to be easy, but he also feels more prepared this time – at least knowing what to expect. Last time, he underestimated the wolf, but, even if the creature has the potential to be slowed by healing wounds, he won't make the same mistake tonight. ]
[ Angry as Faraday is, he still shoots Vasquez a sharp, heated glare. They’re certainly going to talk about this, should they both manage to survive the night. Faraday is far from done berating Vasquez’s lack of intelligence and his misplaced sense of confidence.
Once his clothing is tossed away, he settles back, breathing through the familiar chills that run through him – exclusive to the full moon, when the wolf fights for control of his body. He wipes at the cold sweat on his brow again, tipping his head back against the wooden wall of the shed. ]
Whatever you’ve gotta do, don’t let it bite anyone.
[ This demand sobers some of Vasquez's projected confidence. He may be less concerned about how he'll come out of the night, but other casualties are not negotiable.
He nods once. ]
You have my word.
[ Faraday won't wake with lives on his hands – corpses or a newly-infected victim. ]
[ That, at least, manages to dampen some of his anger, and while he still certainly looks irritated, he manages to give Vasquez a grateful little nod.
With the sky darkening and darkening, Faraday knows there isn’t much time left. He licks his lips, readjusting himself on the floor to sit on his haunches. ]
Try not to die.
[ His voice is strained, breathing growing erratic as the wolf rises to the surface, but he still casts it out as a feeble joke – though he means it.
It’d be at least a little funny, he thinks a little darkly, to hitch your wagon to someone else’s, only to be the one that wrecks it.
[ The crook in his smile lacks genuine amusement, and he takes a few extra steps back; there's little room in this small shed, but he needs to offer Faraday what he can.
... And to make it harder for the wolf to snatch Vasquez up in his teeth. ]
[ Mighty optimistic of you, is what Faraday wants to say.
But he's interrupted when his eyes flash gold, when something in him cracks, and he doubles over with a startled grunt.
It's the same as it always is – hideous and agonizing and awful, even with the booze in his system helping to dull the pain. His screams turn to guttural, canine groans, interspersed with the grinding of bone and snapping of muscle. The only difference between this and a normal night is the queer way he can feel his mind slipping sideways, fading away into sleep.
The wolf falls to the floorboards, kicking up a faint cloud of dust as it wheezes. Its body throbs in a way it's hardly ever felt, and for a few seconds, it whines to itself, licking at a scar on its hind leg. ]
[ There's a bitter twinge Vasquez always feels when he watches Faraday transform (because seeing him in pain is—).
But there lies the wolf, trying to get its bearings. Vasquez keeps his posture relaxed (but ready) as he maintains their distance. He keeps his hands visible, but he's still just a flinch away from the silver in his pocket. ]
Sore, eh? I can only imagine.
[ A flash of sympathy crosses his face as the wolf licks at a healed-over wound that Vasquez knows well. ]
[ It jerks to attention, gold eyes focusing on Vasquez. Slowly, it rises to its feet, ignoring the protests of the various wounds across its body. Its ears swivel forward, hackles raised and tail held out.
It sniffs at the air, takes in the scent of cigar smoke and gunpowder, sawdust and sweat. The stench of old blood and old flesh and death.
If it recognizes Vasquez from their last run-in, it shows no signs of it; instead, it snarls baring its fangs. ]
[ Vasquez lifts his hands up, palms out, and he takes a demonstrative step back – as much as the shed allows.
He doesn't want to present a threat too early, doesn't want to look challenging. Ironic, that he's actively trying not to bait Faraday, considering their usual back-and-forth. But animals don't understand bickering and banter, and he's not fool enough to try offering it. ]
Easy. Easy, perrito.
[ His voice takes on that rolling timbre, smooth like velvet and sweet like chocolate, with an underlying command. ]
[ One of its ears twitches at that alien tug, and unconsciously, its growling quiets. It doesn't relax from that aggressive stance, muscles still coiled tightly and ready to leap at the slightest provocation, but its gaze loses a bit of its sharpness.
Slowly, the wolf starts to circle around in the confined space, getting the lay of the land while sizing the man up. The stench of wolfsbane muddles its senses, and the wolf snorts, trying to clear the stink from its nostrils. The dried herb keeps it from getting a good idea of what lies outside – but it thinks it catches the smell of cooking meats and old, dried blood. Its stomach yawns, and the wolf lifts its head, sniffing for a trace of fresh air, something that might signal a weakness in the walls. ]
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no subject
A little wryly, ]
Not much for it, 'less you've got a way to make it so I never got bit.
[ But that bare bit of humor drops away as he gives Vasquez a once-over of his own, jaw working to one side as he thinks.
It strikes him after a second or two, and Faraday goes rigid with the realization. ]
Where're your guns?
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Back at the boarding house. They just get in the way, if I'm not going to use them.
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[ And there's heat in the insult, far more than Faraday's thrown at Vasquez in weeks. ]
Go get your guns, you stubborn ass. And get the bullets from Sam.
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I have the chain. That's enough, perro.
Told you before: I'm not going to shoot you. No point having them, if I'm not going to use them tonight.
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Hell, Vasquez.
[ And he hisses out the curse, grabbing up his crutch and starting to push himself up to his feet. ]
We don't know how it's gonna be tonight, but you remember how bad it got last time.
You need your guns.
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I didn't use them last time, even once. I'll be fine.
[ And a little more firmly, ]
Sit back down.
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[ With Vasquez gripping the crutch, Faraday abandons it, instead trying to leverage himself to his feet with the help of the wall behind him.
With a touch of strain in his voice, ]
What happens if it gets away from you, huh? What happens if it turns back on the town and you gotta put it down quick?
Chain ain't gonna do you much good, then.
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I already said I'm not shooting you – or tu lobo. I can keep up with your wolf, perrito, without a gun.
You don't have time to fuss, so don't waste your energy.
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But something in him lurches, and he sucks in a startled breath, gracelessly dropping back to the floor. Still a few more moments before sunset, but it's not nearly enough time to make it to the boardinghouse, find Sam, and make it back to the shed. ]
Jesus wept.
[ This, as he's working to yank off his shirt. ]
You're a goddamn idiot. You got no one to blame but yourself if this all goes sideways.
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Vasquez gives Faraday a beat of space, now that he isn't trying to go for the door. ]
Lo que digas.
[ He gives Faraday room to start wriggling out of his clothes, sitting back on his heels. ]
Rest a little easier; we made it through the last moon, this will be no different.
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The wolf mauled you to hell and back.
[ And he tosses his shirt away. These days, he doesn't look like he went a few rounds with a speeding locomotive and lost. He's healed far faster than he had any right to, but the wounds are still tender, still like to shriek at him – as if he needs the reminder to stay the hell away from any more silver bullets. ]
You were practically missin' half your flesh.
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[ No harm, no foul. ]
I heal, Faraday. I know what to expect from it now.
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[ He says it with open derision.
He's pissed. The sun hasn't even set, and the evening already isn't going the way he figured it would. He figured Vasquez would have the good sense – and the self of preservation – to keep his guns on him, to have those silver bullets chambered and ready for the wolf.
Obviously Faraday doesn't want to go through the experience of getting shot again, assuming he survives it, but he's always prided himself on being practical. If faced with a bloodthirsty, nearly unstoppable monster, it's always wisest to arm yourself with what can stop it.
He works at the fastening of his jeans. ]
For the record, Sam's gonna think you're a goddamn idiot, too. And if we both come back from this, I ain't explainin' to him why you're missin' half your body.
no subject
[ Maybe? Vasquez has never lost an appendage to test the theory, and he's content to continue that pattern.
But he still doesn't think he needs the silver bullets. He's confident that he can physically handle the wolf, and with Faraday's consent, he has few compunctions about sinking his teeth into the wolf to let it tire itself out with anemia. ]
Don't worry about this part, perro.
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[ Faraday mockingly grumbles it under his breath as he strips down. ]
All the vampires in the world, and I get stuck with the only one with a goddamn death wish.
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Have a little faith, my friend.
[ He doesn't expect the evening to be easy, but he also feels more prepared this time – at least knowing what to expect. Last time, he underestimated the wolf, but, even if the creature has the potential to be slowed by healing wounds, he won't make the same mistake tonight. ]
no subject
Once his clothing is tossed away, he settles back, breathing through the familiar chills that run through him – exclusive to the full moon, when the wolf fights for control of his body. He wipes at the cold sweat on his brow again, tipping his head back against the wooden wall of the shed. ]
Whatever you’ve gotta do, don’t let it bite anyone.
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He nods once. ]
You have my word.
[ Faraday won't wake with lives on his hands – corpses or a newly-infected victim. ]
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With the sky darkening and darkening, Faraday knows there isn’t much time left. He licks his lips, readjusting himself on the floor to sit on his haunches. ]
Try not to die.
[ His voice is strained, breathing growing erratic as the wolf rises to the surface, but he still casts it out as a feeble joke – though he means it.
It’d be at least a little funny, he thinks a little darkly, to hitch your wagon to someone else’s, only to be the one that wrecks it.
It would be just Faraday’s luck. ]
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... And to make it harder for the wolf to snatch Vasquez up in his teeth. ]
See you in the morning, perrito.
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But he's interrupted when his eyes flash gold, when something in him cracks, and he doubles over with a startled grunt.
It's the same as it always is – hideous and agonizing and awful, even with the booze in his system helping to dull the pain. His screams turn to guttural, canine groans, interspersed with the grinding of bone and snapping of muscle. The only difference between this and a normal night is the queer way he can feel his mind slipping sideways, fading away into sleep.
The wolf falls to the floorboards, kicking up a faint cloud of dust as it wheezes. Its body throbs in a way it's hardly ever felt, and for a few seconds, it whines to itself, licking at a scar on its hind leg. ]
no subject
But there lies the wolf, trying to get its bearings. Vasquez keeps his posture relaxed (but ready) as he maintains their distance. He keeps his hands visible, but he's still just a flinch away from the silver in his pocket. ]
Sore, eh? I can only imagine.
[ A flash of sympathy crosses his face as the wolf licks at a healed-over wound that Vasquez knows well. ]
no subject
It sniffs at the air, takes in the scent of cigar smoke and gunpowder, sawdust and sweat. The stench of old blood and old flesh and death.
If it recognizes Vasquez from their last run-in, it shows no signs of it; instead, it snarls baring its fangs. ]
no subject
He doesn't want to present a threat too early, doesn't want to look challenging. Ironic, that he's actively trying not to bait Faraday, considering their usual back-and-forth. But animals don't understand bickering and banter, and he's not fool enough to try offering it. ]
Easy. Easy, perrito.
[ His voice takes on that rolling timbre, smooth like velvet and sweet like chocolate, with an underlying command. ]
no subject
Slowly, the wolf starts to circle around in the confined space, getting the lay of the land while sizing the man up. The stench of wolfsbane muddles its senses, and the wolf snorts, trying to clear the stink from its nostrils. The dried herb keeps it from getting a good idea of what lies outside – but it thinks it catches the smell of cooking meats and old, dried blood. Its stomach yawns, and the wolf lifts its head, sniffing for a trace of fresh air, something that might signal a weakness in the walls. ]
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