Vasquez cocks his head to one side, a completely unimpressed look on his face given Faraday's comment about his clothes. "I'm going to want that back," he insists, not joking around anymore. He only has two actually nice shirts (three or four if you count the more modern wear), and he doesn't want to lose it.

"Done what?" he asks, absently, reaching for his coat, because he wants to go with Faraday, and hasn't been paying enough attention, too busy thinking about how his clothes are going to smell of Faraday when he gets them back.