At least it got him into the house, where he fought rubbing his hands together and proving just how cold he is. Instead he leans against the wall by the door, watching Vasquez set to making their food.

"Never knew you were domestic-like. I guess it makes sense in a way." Which is a low blow and he knows it, but damn he's bad at emotions on the best of days and this isn't even in the top ten. He might be there with Vasquez but damn if it's not all confusing, especially about the Mexican.

"And I slept fine," he says, shrugging as if it's nothing and lying through his damn teeth. "What's there to adjust to. I'm just in some weird place where you're shacking up with some hombre that's kind of washy between the ears and I've lost a year of my damn life and no idea how or what I was doing. Everything's perfectly fine."