Vasquez shifts a little to test his arm, trying to make sure that it's not too painful. The truth is, he's used to being in pain, but he also doesn't want this particular wound back, because of what it reminds him. He raises a brow as he looks at the other man.

"You're like a gun," he says, eyes bright as he imagines it. "The best parts of it, at least. And what, you happen when tragedies do, but then what? Why are you created? Is it for some actual purpose?"