[ And he snaps it back, yanking roughly at the straps holding Jack's bridle in place. The horse snorts at him in warning, and Faraday clicks his tongue, forces himself to take a breath to calm down.
Not for his own benefit, and maybe not for Vasquez's, either – but so he doesn't yank at Jack's tack wrong and encourage the horse to knock Faraday on his ass. ]
I already got blank spots in my head from the wolf.
[ And while he's marginally calmer, if only so he can untack Jack properly, he still spits the word out bitterly. ]
It'd be easy takin' advantage of that. I already spend one night out of the month completely out of my own goddamn mind. What's another one or two more, right?
[ It's a flat statement, like that's answer enough, and it is, to Vasquez. It's clear to him why Faraday is asking, and it shouldn't feel like such a surprise, like such a kick in the teeth.
At the end of the day, what is he? The same thing he's been for centuries, the same monster whose stories were passed down through generations.
It's a perfectly reasonable assumption of an untrustworthy creature.
He doesn't know why he'd convinced himself Faraday thought differently.
Vasquez finally turns back to his horse, starting to unbuckle its bridle.
[ There's not much to read off of that – which is telling, considering Vasquez, like him, tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve, was as free with his jokes as he was with his barbs.
Faraday may still be bristling, but he has the sudden realization that he may have fucked up.
He believes him, is the thing. And maybe that's naive, to simply take Vasquez at his word, especially considering what Faraday witnessed today, but Vasquez doesn't have much reason to lie to him, he thinks.
Faraday's hands still on the buckles for a few breaths before he continues his work, pulling the bridle off of Jack's head and replacing it with the halter from his saddlebag. He hitches him to a nearby tree before working at loosening the saddle. He's quite for a long while as he moves around Jack.
Then, ]
Guessing it didn't work all that well when you did it to the wolf.
[ If it had, Faraday doubts the two of them would keep waking up mauled all to hell. ]
[ Vasquez lets them lapse into stony silence without turning any attention towards Faraday as he deals with his horse. His feelings are a thunderous storm in his chest, fighting each other for prominence. It all prickles out over his skin, something heated and angry, indignant – even if he doesn't see the real reason why.
He hitches his own horse to the same tree, barely looking at Faraday as he undoes his saddlebag.
Short, curt, ]
No. It didn't.
[ If he's honest, it seemed to have some effect, but compared to how it usually works on mortals? It was nothing. ]
[ Well, that's something of a relief, he supposes. They won't know unless Vasquez tries whether or not it'll work on Faraday, but if it doesn't work on the wolf, then there's a fair chance it won't work on him, either.
Then again, the wolf can withstand a dozen bullets to the gut. Faraday doubts he'd come out of an exchange like that nearly as well.
With the saddle dropped to the ground, Faraday throws his bags over his shoulder as he pulls off the blanket. He runs a hand along Jack's neck – mostly as an excuse to keep from looking at Vasquez. ]
If it matters, I believe you.
[ Just as brusquely. Reflexively, he glances upward. With the light warming as it is, he knows sunset is around the corner. There's still time, though – time enough to settle in, to build a fire.
It also means that unless they want to spend the last of the daylight pointedly avoiding and ignoring each other, they have time to talk.
Faraday hasn't ruled out the stony silence just yet, though, but he figures he'll at least attempt passing the baton to Vasquez. ]
[ Vasquez is already in the middle of getting his things set on the ground when Faraday speaks, and he glances the other man's way with a flicker of an unconvinced frown. ]
[ Faraday snorts derisively and tosses the blanket to the ground with a little more force than necessary. ]
I just watched two murderous sons of bitches almost shit themselves with terror 'cause they couldn't control themselves. And you're the one that told me you use that shit to make people forget.
And then I get this weird sensation that it's familiar, like I know exactly what those two bastards are feelin'.
Put yourself in my position, huh? You're tellin' me you wouldn't start askin' questions?
[ The rationale feels— fair, as much as Vasquez is still fuming. ]
Why would I assume first that the man saving my life has been taking advantage of me and making me forget? Unless I thought only that man was a monster and nothing else.
[ Which... Vasquez is. He has been for centuries, and he hasn't cared to be anything else since his heart was first ripped from his chest.
He'd just become so comfortable being treated as something more since Rose Creek. It stings thinking that Faraday might never have stopped looking at him that way. ]
[ He snaps it back, and when he drops his saddlebags next to his saddle, it's with far more force than they're owed.
Although he hesitates for a split-second, probably realizing that— maybe he did imply that. Maybe he was too quick to assume the worst, but it's just how his mind works; it's what's helped him stay alive this long.
He clenches his jaw, taking a breath. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to just keep fighting, keep escalating, because that's how this was always going to end, right? One big fiery explosion. This was never going to last.
Maybe it's for the best that this blows up sooner, rather than later. Later, and it might've hurt a lot more. ]
When people got tricks, they use 'em. Either 'cause they need to, or 'cause they want to.
How was I gonna know what you were usin' it for unless I asked? Hell, for I knew, you could've just been doin' it to shut me up when I got too mouthy on the road.
[ And maybe that's what's really grating at him. He scrubs at his face, frustrated. ]
Three months I've known you, and I still barely got any idea what you're capable of, while you know every single way you could do me or the wolf in, if you had a mind for it.
You aren't like any vampire I've heard about. You can walk in broad daylight without havin' to hide yourself. You can take a million bullets, sanctified or otherwise, and walk away. You can go all—
[ That's— a fair point, all things considered. Vasquez obviously doesn't make a habit of sharing much of himself or his abilities, because it gives him an advantage. It guarantees him a leg up on his enemies or victims.
Does he still need that with Faraday?
Rather than snap back again, Vasquez falls quiet, his expression stormy as he tries to sort out his response.
Finally, tense and prickling, he reaches up for his hat. ]
... Clearly, from the confusion that flashes across his face, he was expecting Vasquez to make yet another very good point to shut down Faraday's arguments.
Despite himself, despite the relatively level response from Vasquez, Faraday is still a little wary, reluctant to release his poor temper – mostly because Vasquez appears to be in the same mood.
Still, he manages to wrestle his voice back to something neutral. ]
You got fangs. You drink blood. Sounds sort of vampire-esque to me, Vasquez.
Just because one thing is like another does not make it the same. A horse is like a donkey, but you would never say it is a donkey, no?
[ He removes his hat to run a hand back through his hair, glancing again at Faraday. ]
I have fangs. I drink blood. I cannot make others like me. I cannot die from a stake through my chest. [ Certainly not through the heart he doesn't have. ]
For a few heartbeats, he's stunned into silence, frozen and staring.
If Vasquez is telling the truth – and Faraday doesn't have a good reason why he wouldn't be – that's— a big thing to admit. And if Faraday is entirely honest, he almost wishes he wasn't hearing this.
There's a giant goddamn weight that comes with knowing this, a huge responsibility, and Faraday hasn't got a single clue why Vasquez is trusting him with this. ]
You don't actually have to tell me.
[ — which is goddamn rich, he knows, considering the tantrum he just threw. ]
I was just tryin' to figure out if you could see your reflection in mirrors, is all.
[ ... Though saying it aloud makes him realize he can't remember the last time he told that name to someone. In Mexico, those who knew were already aware of what he was; he never said it.
But, as with the continued problem of Faraday's horrendous Spanish (or lack thereof), he knows he'll need to translate to give it meaning for the other man. ]
Then, slowly, in an effort to actually get the pronunciation as close to correct as possible, ]
Caminante de Sangre.
[ It's imperfect, but closer than his usual attempts at using Vasquez's mother tongue.
... which just goes to show that Faraday is putting in effort to get it wrong almost every other time.
He frowns a little, thinking over all this new information. Vasquez said he couldn't turn anyone, but that didn't necessarily mean that was true of others like him. ]
Have you always been what you are, or did you get turned?
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[ He holds fast to his horse's reins, watching Faraday closely, even as he doesn't turn to face Vasquez again. ]
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[ And he snaps it back, yanking roughly at the straps holding Jack's bridle in place. The horse snorts at him in warning, and Faraday clicks his tongue, forces himself to take a breath to calm down.
Not for his own benefit, and maybe not for Vasquez's, either – but so he doesn't yank at Jack's tack wrong and encourage the horse to knock Faraday on his ass. ]
I already got blank spots in my head from the wolf.
[ And while he's marginally calmer, if only so he can untack Jack properly, he still spits the word out bitterly. ]
It'd be easy takin' advantage of that. I already spend one night out of the month completely out of my own goddamn mind. What's another one or two more, right?
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[ It's a flat statement, like that's answer enough, and it is, to Vasquez. It's clear to him why Faraday is asking, and it shouldn't feel like such a surprise, like such a kick in the teeth.
At the end of the day, what is he? The same thing he's been for centuries, the same monster whose stories were passed down through generations.
It's a perfectly reasonable assumption of an untrustworthy creature.
He doesn't know why he'd convinced himself Faraday thought differently.
Vasquez finally turns back to his horse, starting to unbuckle its bridle.
Over his shoulder, ]
No. I never tried, except the full moon.
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Faraday may still be bristling, but he has the sudden realization that he may have fucked up.
He believes him, is the thing. And maybe that's naive, to simply take Vasquez at his word, especially considering what Faraday witnessed today, but Vasquez doesn't have much reason to lie to him, he thinks.
Faraday's hands still on the buckles for a few breaths before he continues his work, pulling the bridle off of Jack's head and replacing it with the halter from his saddlebag. He hitches him to a nearby tree before working at loosening the saddle. He's quite for a long while as he moves around Jack.
Then, ]
Guessing it didn't work all that well when you did it to the wolf.
[ If it had, Faraday doubts the two of them would keep waking up mauled all to hell. ]
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He hitches his own horse to the same tree, barely looking at Faraday as he undoes his saddlebag.
Short, curt, ]
No. It didn't.
[ If he's honest, it seemed to have some effect, but compared to how it usually works on mortals? It was nothing. ]
It waited when I told it to, but that was it.
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Then again, the wolf can withstand a dozen bullets to the gut. Faraday doubts he'd come out of an exchange like that nearly as well.
With the saddle dropped to the ground, Faraday throws his bags over his shoulder as he pulls off the blanket. He runs a hand along Jack's neck – mostly as an excuse to keep from looking at Vasquez. ]
If it matters, I believe you.
[ Just as brusquely. Reflexively, he glances upward. With the light warming as it is, he knows sunset is around the corner. There's still time, though – time enough to settle in, to build a fire.
It also means that unless they want to spend the last of the daylight pointedly avoiding and ignoring each other, they have time to talk.
Faraday hasn't ruled out the stony silence just yet, though, but he figures he'll at least attempt passing the baton to Vasquez. ]
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Then why did you even ask in the first place?
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[ Faraday snorts derisively and tosses the blanket to the ground with a little more force than necessary. ]
I just watched two murderous sons of bitches almost shit themselves with terror 'cause they couldn't control themselves. And you're the one that told me you use that shit to make people forget.
And then I get this weird sensation that it's familiar, like I know exactly what those two bastards are feelin'.
Put yourself in my position, huh? You're tellin' me you wouldn't start askin' questions?
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Why would I assume first that the man saving my life has been taking advantage of me and making me forget? Unless I thought only that man was a monster and nothing else.
[ Which... Vasquez is. He has been for centuries, and he hasn't cared to be anything else since his heart was first ripped from his chest.
He'd just become so comfortable being treated as something more since Rose Creek. It stings thinking that Faraday might never have stopped looking at him that way. ]
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[ His mouth works faster than his brain, sometimes, though when he registers what Vasquez says, Faraday is quick to pull up short.
He bristles, defensive. ]
Now, hold on. Don't go puttin' words in my mouth. I didn't say any of that.
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[ He snaps it back, and when he drops his saddlebags next to his saddle, it's with far more force than they're owed.
Although he hesitates for a split-second, probably realizing that— maybe he did imply that. Maybe he was too quick to assume the worst, but it's just how his mind works; it's what's helped him stay alive this long.
He clenches his jaw, taking a breath. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to just keep fighting, keep escalating, because that's how this was always going to end, right? One big fiery explosion. This was never going to last.
Maybe it's for the best that this blows up sooner, rather than later. Later, and it might've hurt a lot more. ]
When people got tricks, they use 'em. Either 'cause they need to, or 'cause they want to.
How was I gonna know what you were usin' it for unless I asked? Hell, for I knew, you could've just been doin' it to shut me up when I got too mouthy on the road.
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Why would you travel with me if you think that is what I would do?
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[ And maybe that's what's really grating at him. He scrubs at his face, frustrated. ]
Three months I've known you, and I still barely got any idea what you're capable of, while you know every single way you could do me or the wolf in, if you had a mind for it.
You aren't like any vampire I've heard about. You can walk in broad daylight without havin' to hide yourself. You can take a million bullets, sanctified or otherwise, and walk away. You can go all—
[ He gestures vaguely. ]
Shadowy.
Is that all?
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Does he still need that with Faraday?
Rather than snap back again, Vasquez falls quiet, his expression stormy as he tries to sort out his response.
Finally, tense and prickling, he reaches up for his hat. ]
I never said I was a vampire.
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... Clearly, from the confusion that flashes across his face, he was expecting Vasquez to make yet another very good point to shut down Faraday's arguments.
Despite himself, despite the relatively level response from Vasquez, Faraday is still a little wary, reluctant to release his poor temper – mostly because Vasquez appears to be in the same mood.
Still, he manages to wrestle his voice back to something neutral. ]
You got fangs. You drink blood. Sounds sort of vampire-esque to me, Vasquez.
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[ He removes his hat to run a hand back through his hair, glancing again at Faraday. ]
I have fangs. I drink blood. I cannot make others like me. I cannot die from a stake through my chest. [ Certainly not through the heart he doesn't have. ]
No somos lo mismo.
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He huffs out a breath – a short, reluctant laugh, if he's honest with himself, even if he tries to pass it off as an annoyed snort. ]
What about crossing running water? An aversion to garlic? An obsessive need to count shit?
[ It's very possible that Faraday is only asking to be an ass. ]
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No. No. And no.
[ He drops his hat with his saddlebag, kneeling down to get out his bedroll.
After a moment of sorting through things, he finally offers, ]
I can't heal from obsidian. Any wound made by it takes all my strength.
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For a few heartbeats, he's stunned into silence, frozen and staring.
If Vasquez is telling the truth – and Faraday doesn't have a good reason why he wouldn't be – that's— a big thing to admit. And if Faraday is entirely honest, he almost wishes he wasn't hearing this.
There's a giant goddamn weight that comes with knowing this, a huge responsibility, and Faraday hasn't got a single clue why Vasquez is trusting him with this. ]
You don't actually have to tell me.
[ — which is goddamn rich, he knows, considering the tantrum he just threw. ]
I was just tryin' to figure out if you could see your reflection in mirrors, is all.
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You were just throwing a fit because you say you know nothing about me. Now you know something.
[ A big something, considering what a significant weapon it is against Vasquez. ]
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... Vasquez makes a very fair point.
Faraday deeply wishes Vasquez would stop making fair points.
He grits his teeth in another effort to calm himself before he crouches down, starts readying his own gear for the night. ]
So you're not a vampire.
What are you, then?
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[ ... Though saying it aloud makes him realize he can't remember the last time he told that name to someone. In Mexico, those who knew were already aware of what he was; he never said it.
But, as with the continued problem of Faraday's horrendous Spanish (or lack thereof), he knows he'll need to translate to give it meaning for the other man. ]
It would mean... blood walker, in English.
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Then, slowly, in an effort to actually get the pronunciation as close to correct as possible, ]
Caminante de Sangre.
[ It's imperfect, but closer than his usual attempts at using Vasquez's mother tongue.
... which just goes to show that Faraday is putting in effort to get it wrong almost every other time.
He frowns a little, thinking over all this new information. Vasquez said he couldn't turn anyone, but that didn't necessarily mean that was true of others like him. ]
Have you always been what you are, or did you get turned?
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[ A long time ago. ]
But I have been this longer than I was ever human.
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