Vasquez doesn't do anything stupid like push off the door, but he does light a cigarette to give his mouth something to do, not to mention his hands and even his eyes. He can watch the smoke curl from the cigarette instead of having to meet Faraday's eyes.

At least, until he's ready. He shrugs, but then remembers he shouldn't pretend that this is so easy.

"I meant everything," he agrees, because there might be some gaps, but he knows what he feels. "You really think that I tell everyone my first name? Guerito, no, that's for people who mean a lot to me."