you had jesus on your breath (and i caught him in mine)

[vaqueros]

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[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez turns to Faraday finally, that glare still in place. ]

Why would you travel with me if you think that is what I would do?

[peacemakers]

I didn't even know it was something you could do.

[ 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?

[vaqueros]

[ 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. ]

I never said I was a vampire.

[peacemakers]

[ Faraday frowns at that.

... 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.

[vaqueros]

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. ]

No somos lo mismo.

[peacemakers]

[ ... Well. There's the infuriatingly good sense Faraday was expecting.

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. ]

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez doesn't laugh, but in a better moment, his scoff might have some humor to it. ]

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.

[peacemakers]

[ Oh.

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.

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez pauses to toss Faraday an unimpressed glare over his shoulder. ]

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. ]

[peacemakers]

[ Faraday falls silent again, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

... 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?

[vaqueros]

Caminante de Sangre.

[ ... 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.

[peacemakers]

[ Faraday is quiet again.

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?

[vaqueros]

I was human, once.

[ A long time ago. ]

But I have been this longer than I was ever human.

[peacemakers]

[ He absorbs this bit of information before rolling out his bedroll, smoothing it down. ]

And how long ago might that have been?

[ And this might be closer to their usual banter, because Faraday has been trying for weeks to get the other man to fess up on his age.

He's old, that much Faraday can tell, from the frequent, faraway look in the other man's eyes. ]

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez has to pause to actually think about his answer now. He measures time by the name he's taken, by the person he's become to fit the times, to keep surviving. ]

Three... [ Another pause and a grimace. ] ... hundred years?

[peacemakers]

[ Faraday falls silent again before he barks out a single incredulous laugh. ]

Bullshit.

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez sits back on his haunches, looking over at Faraday with a wrinkle in his brow. ]

Why would I lie about that?

[peacemakers]

[ He figured Vasquez would grin at him, amused for being caught out in his lie.

Instead, the man just looks honestly bewildered, and Faraday's smile falters. ]

You bein' serious?

You're three hundred years old. Three-zero-zero.

[vaqueros]

Probably closer to 350, now, but sí.

[ He’s seen the rise and fall of empires, the fading of lives and the overhaul of culture.

He’s just plain old. ]

[peacemakers]

[ Faraday is stunned into silence again before he chuckles to himself, the sound drawn out begrudgingly. ]

Goddamn. I was way off.

[ He unbuckles his gunbelt, setting it beside his saddlebags. Another glance at the sky, and he knows that he'll have to get a move on if he means to collect wood to get a fire going.

Still, his curiosity keeps him rooted to the spot. ]

How'd it happen?

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez watches Faraday, lifting a dubious brow. ]

You really want to know?

[ Because it’s not pretty. It’s even fairly fantastical, and he wouldn’t be shocked if Faraday was reasonably incredulous.

But it doesn’t make the event any less true. ]

[peacemakers]

[ Faraday still hasn't entirely let go of his poor mood from earlier, even if Vasquez seems to have taken his earlier complaints to heart. That's just the sort of man Faraday is, he'll grant – an ornery bastard who holds grudges.

It's why he cuts Vasquez a flat, annoyed look.

Sarcastically, ]

Of course not. I make it a habit to ask after shit I don't want to know aobut.

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez meets Faraday’s annoyance with a bland look, plucking up a nearby twig to huck it at Faraday – without any actual force. ]

It’s complicated, perro.

[ Endlessly so. ]

Let’s finish the fire, and then I’ll tell you all of it.

[peacemakers]

[ Harmless as it is, Faraday still offers a token grumble – you'll put someone's eye out that way, under his breath.

And at Vasquez's offer, Faraday huffs, exasperated. ]

I'm gonna be changed by then.

[ The sky is darkening, bit by bit – time enough to collect up what they need and start the fire, but not necessarily time enough for Vasquez to explain himself, if it's really as complicated as he says.

Even so, Faraday still gets to his feet, brushing himself off. ]

Just so we're clear, you aren't getting out of the telling just 'cause I can't talk.

[vaqueros]

You still talk, perrito.

[ Not with words, but Vasquez thinks he might be getting better at understanding Faraday in the other form.

Vasquez pushes himself up, nodding towards the errant bits of dried wood littering the clearing. ]

And maybe it's better you can't add anything stupid while I try to do the telling.

[ Despite the disparaging words, Vasquez casts them with more of their usual bantering tone.

It's a tease, rather than an insult. ]