[ It's slow going returning to the network of caves, with Faraday hobbled as he is. All the while, Faraday keeps his ears perked for any telltale signs of pursuit, sniffing at the air for the scent of unfamiliar blood that might signal Butch's arrival.
Thankfully, Butch must've considered himself soundly beat – or at least, valued the idea of his skin remaining attached to his body – and they return without further incident. Faraday limps his way over to his bedroll and promptly collapses onto it. ]
[ Faraday's only response is a low, displeased rumble.
Aside from the nights where loses his mind entirely, it's been ages since he's been in a brawl – and wolf or otherwise, he's displeased to find how sorely out of practice he is, to find how badly his wounds have hindered him, mostly healed as they are.
[ After a moment of pause, Vasquez realizes: Faraday is sulking. It's almost funny – watching a wolf cling to a sour mood – but Vasquez is also distracted by the wound Faraday is nursing. After the fight with Bogue and all manner of other scuffles, Vasquez is more accustomed to things that don't even manage to break the wolf's skin (other than silver).
Butch bit right into Faraday's leg like it was as tender as a cooked chicken wing.
It makes sense, Vasquez reasons, that Faraday might be affected by his same kind, but that's no more a comfort than any other part of the encounter.
The fire sparks to life, and Vasquez tucks away his tinderbox. He pushes himself up to his feet, going over to drop next to Faraday on his bedroll. ]
So... [ Vasquez removes his hat, dusting is off. ]
[ At that bit of commentary, Faraday almost immediately lifts his head and starts snarling and barking, having apparently forgotten that Vasquez can't actually understand him. In another moment, it might've been a rant filled with the sort of curses that would blight an entire field.
Silly, how quickly that short time with Butch has apparently spoiled him. ]
[ Vasquez's brows progressively inch up his forehead the longer Faraday keeps barking out what would, to other ears, surely be a fully formed cursing-out.
It's probably impressive, in context.
He leans his elbow on his knee, propping up his cheek as he lets Faraday go on.
After Faraday seems to be trailing off, Vasquez finally supplies, ]
[ He snorts out a breath once he realizes how utterly lost that tirade was on Vasquez – though the tone of it is less chagrined and more conclusive, as if he means to tell the other man, "I said what I said." ]
[ It's funny, Faraday might think in a better moment, that the only reason he's so used to this bit of contact is because Vasquez offered it when Faraday was out of his mind with pain and desperately latched onto any small bit of comfort he could.
It took weeks for him to get to this point, where he could simply exist without regretting it, which means he's had weeks to grow accustomed to Vasquez's presence and his touch – enough so that the absence of either would be truly out of the ordinary.
Vasquez's question earns a quick, decisive nod, and Faraday jerks his head a little toward the mouth of the cave, though given that his gaze is aimed upward, he seems to be indicating the sky.
[ With the amount of time Vasquez has spent with Faraday in this form, he understands the wordless gratitude for what it is. He scratches the top of Faraday's head, almost in acknowledgment, before his fingers shift down to rub under his jaw – the same absent affection as always. ]
[ He moves without a thought, head tilting upward to let Vasquez scratch at his chin.
At the question, though, he lets out a low, unhappy grunt. Vasquez surely means to ask after the chunk Butch tried to take out of his leg, but Faraday has always been a little touchy about his bad leg. It hasn't been the same since Rose Creek. He doubts it ever will be again. ]
[ Vasquez understands the general tetchy reactions Faraday has about whatever impairments he may have sustained, and he understands the usual complaints – but it's still not an answer. ]
Ay, perro, you know I mean the bite.
[ He rolls his eyes, but he continues scritching under Faraday's chin. ]
[ Faraday grumbles out another displeased noise, but he reluctantly pulls away from Vasquez's attentions to nose at the injury on his leg.
The wound still looks ugly, with his fur matted around the worst of it, but the bleeding has stopped. It still throbs, too. Faraday heals quicker than most, admittedly, but much like the aftermath of Vasquez and the wolf's fights during the full moon, he'll probably be sporting this wound for a few days, at least. ]
[ He lets out a low agreeing rumble, head tipping a little to one side.
That's something, at least.
Not much of something, considering Vasquez will almost certainly be contending with wolves tomorrow night; but maybe with Faraday's wolf already suffering from his old wounds, and with Butch's wolf dealing with the gouges in his back, it won't be so bad.
Maybe. Not very likely, though. But maybe.
He cranes his head around again, biting at a large burr still clinging to his side. He spits it out to the cave floor, and the rumble he lets out this time is far more disgruntled.
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Come on. We get back and you can let it heal up, hm?
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Thankfully, Butch must've considered himself soundly beat – or at least, valued the idea of his skin remaining attached to his body – and they return without further incident. Faraday limps his way over to his bedroll and promptly collapses onto it. ]
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Mercifully, their slow trek goes uninterrupted, all the way back to the caves.
As Faraday goes to flop down, Vasquez heads over to get a fire started, glancing back at Faraday with a somewhat wry smile. ]
You still want help with those burrs, perro?
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Aside from the nights where loses his mind entirely, it's been ages since he's been in a brawl – and wolf or otherwise, he's displeased to find how sorely out of practice he is, to find how badly his wounds have hindered him, mostly healed as they are.
Faraday isn't used to losing, it seems. ]
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Butch bit right into Faraday's leg like it was as tender as a cooked chicken wing.
It makes sense, Vasquez reasons, that Faraday might be affected by his same kind, but that's no more a comfort than any other part of the encounter.
The fire sparks to life, and Vasquez tucks away his tinderbox. He pushes himself up to his feet, going over to drop next to Faraday on his bedroll. ]
So... [ Vasquez removes his hat, dusting is off. ]
Quite a bastard, no?
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Silly, how quickly that short time with Butch has apparently spoiled him. ]
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It's probably impressive, in context.
He leans his elbow on his knee, propping up his cheek as he lets Faraday go on.
After Faraday seems to be trailing off, Vasquez finally supplies, ]
I didn't get any of that, my friend.
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Vasquez huffs out a laugh, setting his hat aside and reaching out to run his fingers down Faraday's shoulders, almost absently petting him.
(Something he obviously wouldn't do out of hand when Faraday was in his human form, but it's hard to resist like this.) ]
You think he will be trouble again?
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It took weeks for him to get to this point, where he could simply exist without regretting it, which means he's had weeks to grow accustomed to Vasquez's presence and his touch – enough so that the absence of either would be truly out of the ordinary.
Vasquez's question earns a quick, decisive nod, and Faraday jerks his head a little toward the mouth of the cave, though given that his gaze is aimed upward, he seems to be indicating the sky.
Not tonight, he's trying to say. Tomorrow night.
During the full moon. ]
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The moon beaming overhead, nearly full.
Vasquez frowns, something more serious setting in. ]
Do you want me to follow closer tomorrow?
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The wolf form doesn't allow Faraday to be quite as expressive as he is during the daylight hours.
Even so, Faraday still somehow manages to convey what he's thinking:
Are you goddamn insane?
Following closer is the exact last thing Vasquez ought to do. Bad enough there's one feral wolf trying to eat him; contending with two is suicidal. ]
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Vasquez lifts his free hand in a truncated shrug. ]
To make sure he stays away from you.
[ And, thoughtfully, ]
And I do not care about shooting him, so...
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That's an astoundingly fair point, Faraday wants to say. ]
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[ Vasquez reaches up to give one of Faraday's ears the faintest, barest of tugs before scratching behind it. ]
Him? I will pump him full of silver before he has a chance to get close.
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This, in place of a proper thank you. It seems the least he owes Vasquez for hauling Butch off him. ]
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Is the leg healing, perrito?
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At the question, though, he lets out a low, unhappy grunt. Vasquez surely means to ask after the chunk Butch tried to take out of his leg, but Faraday has always been a little touchy about his bad leg. It hasn't been the same since Rose Creek. He doubts it ever will be again. ]
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Ay, perro, you know I mean the bite.
[ He rolls his eyes, but he continues scritching under Faraday's chin. ]
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The wound still looks ugly, with his fur matted around the worst of it, but the bleeding has stopped. It still throbs, too. Faraday heals quicker than most, admittedly, but much like the aftermath of Vasquez and the wolf's fights during the full moon, he'll probably be sporting this wound for a few days, at least. ]
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Looks painful.
[ Probably a given – a stupid statement, really. ]
You think you'll be all right with the moon tomorrow?
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Do I have a choice? ]
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He doesn't prod at the bite (if only because he can't do much), so he just reassuringly pats Faraday's side. ]
Maybe this means I won't come through with so much fight from your wolf, eh?
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That's something, at least.
Not much of something, considering Vasquez will almost certainly be contending with wolves tomorrow night; but maybe with Faraday's wolf already suffering from his old wounds, and with Butch's wolf dealing with the gouges in his back, it won't be so bad.
Maybe. Not very likely, though. But maybe.
He cranes his head around again, biting at a large burr still clinging to his side. He spits it out to the cave floor, and the rumble he lets out this time is far more disgruntled.
Stupid things. ]
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Here, let me see. You can try to get some sleep when these things aren't poking you so much.
Where's the worst?
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