Vasquez has a point. He doesn't always follow him. That night in Rose Creek... he had exchanged words with Goodnight. Called him a coward, useless, dead weight that would only get himself killed. Lied until he was blue in the face just to get Goody to leave, hoping to save his life. And then he drank. Drank until he couldn't remember, or could fight the urge to go after him to take back all the things he had said.

He doesn't tell Vasquez any of this. Only shrugs slightly.
"Followed him here, I guess."
The novelty of the home isn't lost on him. The size is comparable to the mansions of Sacramento, or at least a boarding house with as many rooms as it has. Parlor, kitchen, library, and three separate bedrooms. Plus a root cellar and an attic, with a patch of land behind them that could hold a garden.

"It feels like a boarding house. And it isn't just me living here." If asked, he'll point out that he and Goody sleep in separate rooms, even if it's a lie. There's enough beds in the house to make it true, even if only one of them is undisturbed from the dust of the previous owners.

He sets his logs down by the fireplace, then starts shrugging off his coat to go put back by the door with his hat.
"I'll get the bourbon."