[ He slouches back on the couch, head tipped back on the cushions. Coffee or no, it is still far too early for Faraday to be awake – but given the uncertainty of phase two of their assignment, it seems he's already committed to it. ]
If you've got your heart set on the carjackin' route.
Otherwise, we can see what we can do about swipin' it now.
[ It probably doesn't help Vasquez's observation that Faraday currently has his eyes shut. ]
It's six in the goddamn morning.
[ This, Faraday feels, is all the excuse he needs.
Because the other excuse is that he's still goddamn exhausted from Vasquez fucking him hard enough that the soreness will surely be lingering around for a couple of days.
Faraday, apparently, still doesn't want to be the one to broach the topic. ]
[ Faraday cracks open an eye, just in time to see Vasquez gesture to the bed.
He maintains his expression – not difficult to do, considering he's currently giving off an air of sleepiness – but he's probably quiet for a blink too long.
Faraday's not entirely sure what to do with that invitation.
So once again: he doesn't do anything.
Instead, he finishes off the rest of his coffee – probably counterproductive for anyone else, but like most folks in Statesman's employ, he's built up one hell of a tolerance to caffeine. He sets the empty mug and his glasses aside on the coffee table and reaches for the blanket wadded up on one side of the couch. ]
[ Vasquez stays where he is, still sipping on his coffee as he waits for Faraday to respond. He's— not sure what the hitch of hesitation means; when Faraday doesn't really react – negatively or otherwise – Vasquez finds he's willing not to press it.
He doesn't get up, however; he's settled on the couch, where he'd rather be if he has to keep an absent watch on the tracker.
(Obviously, he doesn't expect the crate to be moved in the next few hours, but just in case.)
He nods, uncrossing and recrossing his feet on the coffee table. ]
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no subject
[ Like he's humoring a child, though there's the faintest bit of amusement in his voice, too. ]
Just gonna remind you, if something goes wrong and we cause a shoot-out, we'd have an extremely dangerous chemical in our backseat.
no subject
[ He gives a dismissive flap of his hand. ]
We won't die in some stolen truck.
[ He grins around his mug. ]
Not flashy enough for you.
[ And it's— easy, bullshitting like this, giving each other grief, falling into their usual routine.
Like they didn't just fuck each others' brains out a few hours ago. ]
no subject
I dunno. I wouldn't mind it if they blew up like they do in movies.
[ He scrubs at his face, shifting his glasses up to his brow to rub the sleep from his eyes. ]
Still gotta figure out when and where the exchange is happening.
no subject
[ While being prepared to get their asses in gear, obviously, but still. ]
no subject
If you've got your heart set on the carjackin' route.
Otherwise, we can see what we can do about swipin' it now.
no subject
[ Honestly, Vasquez doesn't blame him. ]
no subject
It's six in the goddamn morning.
[ This, Faraday feels, is all the excuse he needs.
Because the other excuse is that he's still goddamn exhausted from Vasquez fucking him hard enough that the soreness will surely be lingering around for a couple of days.
Faraday, apparently, still doesn't want to be the one to broach the topic. ]
no subject
You can go back to sleep, you know.
no subject
[ Good to know his sarcasm is still working, even this early in the morning. ]
no subject
[ By which he means Faraday stirred at the tiniest sign of movement. ]
no subject
You snore like you're sawin' wood. The sudden silence of it would wake anyone up.
no subject
Like I say – you can go back to sleep. I won't be snoring anymore.
[ Since he's awake now.
He doesn't even think about the fact that he's offering the bed up to Faraday, like it's nothing. ]
no subject
He maintains his expression – not difficult to do, considering he's currently giving off an air of sleepiness – but he's probably quiet for a blink too long.
Faraday's not entirely sure what to do with that invitation.
So once again: he doesn't do anything.
Instead, he finishes off the rest of his coffee – probably counterproductive for anyone else, but like most folks in Statesman's employ, he's built up one hell of a tolerance to caffeine. He sets the empty mug and his glasses aside on the coffee table and reaches for the blanket wadded up on one side of the couch. ]
Wake me if anything changes?
no subject
He doesn't get up, however; he's settled on the couch, where he'd rather be if he has to keep an absent watch on the tracker.
(Obviously, he doesn't expect the crate to be moved in the next few hours, but just in case.)
He nods, uncrossing and recrossing his feet on the coffee table. ]
Get some rest, sí?