Vasquez raises a brow as he starts to push around the eggs for a scramble, snorting a little. "So that's what this is about?" he says, leaning his hip against the counter so that he's allowed to cook the breakfast and watch Faraday, reaching out for some of the bread he'd made.

He's not domestic, he just likes to eat, and sometimes that means having to do it for yourself.

"I'm not shacking up with just him. You're here under the same roof, aren't you?" he feels compelled to point out. "And you're not the one who lost any time, I just lived more of it. It just means I'll die sooner, all the stress and the greys in my hair." He pushes around the eggs, letting his gaze slide over Faraday. "What's wrong with Bobo, anyway?"