[ Vasquez blinks at Faraday with a flicker of surprise as he butts his head against Vasquez’s arm. But for all that it’s a wildly different means of communicating, he still understands, on some level.
With a faint, crooked smile, he reaches up to rub between the wolf’s ears with his free hand. ]
It’s fine, perro. You probably should know, traveling together like this.
[ He lets out a low, grumbling noise – disagreement, it seems, judging by the quick shake of his head.
Didn't have to find out like that, he wants to say. By pitching a fit, by letting his distrustful nature get the best of them, by insulting Vasquez and his intentions.
It's becoming increasingly common, that bit of contact – Vasquez's hand resting on Faraday's head. Faraday should probably bristle at it, should snap his teeth and treat it like the abasement it is.
Instead, he settles – likely eating up a great deal of space on Vasquez's bedroll, huge as this form is – and lowers his head to rest on his legs. His gaze stays on Vasquez, expression a little expectant and ear flicking.
[ Vasquez actually seems perfectly content with allowing Faraday to settle beside him, no matter how much space he's claiming for himself. He draws his hand away to light his cigar, taking a few slow puffs as he shakes out his match. ]
That should be all, I think.
[ Thoughtlessly, Vasquez rests a hand back on Faraday's head, letting his fingers rustle through thick fur. ]
[ Faraday lets out a low sound in response – a reluctant agreement. Three hundred years must come with a lot of history, he figures, but maybe Vasquez doesn't feel up to the sharing. Faraday's already pried enough tonight, dug deeper than he likely should have.
For now, he thinks he's done enough damage.
He lies at Vasquez's hip for a while, surprisingly content to let the other man sink his hand into Faraday's fur. If anyone asked, Faraday would grudgingly admit he had learned to tolerate the sensation during his recovery, when he shifted to and from his wolf form and was left howling with pain, disoriented and terrified – and Vasquez would be there with a calming voice, holding him steady to keep Faraday from thrashing and reopening his wounds. Not unlike a doting mother calming a child after a nightmare, he figures.
Faraday would never admit it aloud, but it feels nice.
He enjoys it for a handful of minutes, content to watch the flickering flame for at least a little while, but Faraday has always been a little fidgety, has always needed something to do, like keeping his hands occupied with shuffling cards. At last, the inactivity gets to him, and he grumbles a little, mouth opening on a wide yawn. He sits up, then, looking first to Vasquez, then to the wooded area beyond, then back again.
[ Vasquez doesn't mind the quiet, the sitting and smoking and keeping each other company. That's been one of the more pleasant aspects of traveling with someone: the companionable silence.
But leave it to Faraday to get fidgety.
Vasquez offers a hum as he stubs out his cigar, tossing it into the fire. ]
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no subject
With a faint, crooked smile, he reaches up to rub between the wolf’s ears with his free hand. ]
It’s fine, perro. You probably should know, traveling together like this.
no subject
Didn't have to find out like that, he wants to say. By pitching a fit, by letting his distrustful nature get the best of them, by insulting Vasquez and his intentions.
It's becoming increasingly common, that bit of contact – Vasquez's hand resting on Faraday's head. Faraday should probably bristle at it, should snap his teeth and treat it like the abasement it is.
Instead, he settles – likely eating up a great deal of space on Vasquez's bedroll, huge as this form is – and lowers his head to rest on his legs. His gaze stays on Vasquez, expression a little expectant and ear flicking.
Anything else you feel like sharing? ]
no subject
That should be all, I think.
[ Thoughtlessly, Vasquez rests a hand back on Faraday's head, letting his fingers rustle through thick fur. ]
no subject
For now, he thinks he's done enough damage.
He lies at Vasquez's hip for a while, surprisingly content to let the other man sink his hand into Faraday's fur. If anyone asked, Faraday would grudgingly admit he had learned to tolerate the sensation during his recovery, when he shifted to and from his wolf form and was left howling with pain, disoriented and terrified – and Vasquez would be there with a calming voice, holding him steady to keep Faraday from thrashing and reopening his wounds. Not unlike a doting mother calming a child after a nightmare, he figures.
Faraday would never admit it aloud, but it feels nice.
He enjoys it for a handful of minutes, content to watch the flickering flame for at least a little while, but Faraday has always been a little fidgety, has always needed something to do, like keeping his hands occupied with shuffling cards. At last, the inactivity gets to him, and he grumbles a little, mouth opening on a wide yawn. He sits up, then, looking first to Vasquez, then to the wooded area beyond, then back again.
Hungry? ]
no subject
But leave it to Faraday to get fidgety.
Vasquez offers a hum as he stubs out his cigar, tossing it into the fire. ]
You thinking about hunting, perrito?
no subject
Might as well.
It's close enough to dinner time, he figures, and he does have an excess of nervous energy, after their spat. ]