Looking back, he should have known that something was strange about the water. He hadn't cared much, out exploring and thirsty. He's drank from much worse water sources in his time, ones that weren't half as clear as this one. As far as Vasquez is concerned, when you're thirsty, you're thirsty. He slops up about four cups of water through his hands, grimacing as he sees his reflection in the water between. He's half in his old clothes, half in the new, and he feels as foreign as ever.

Shoving at the water to dispel his reflection, he scoffs and wishes to himself that he could just get used to this modern times better, able to shake off all the things lingering from his old life. As much as he's adapting, he's slow to want to learn and he still holds out for old reminders. Heading home, he puts it out of mind.

The next morning, something's wrong.

Well, something is wrong, but it's not like Alejo actually knows that. Getting up, he reaches for his phone to text a few people, peppering in a few stressed emojis because it's supposed to be his day off, yet he's got to work a shift later. Grabbing a pair of jeans and sneakers along with the cleanest shirt and sweater he can find, his eye doesn't even stop once on the spurs or hat in the closet, ignoring the guns and the lasso like they don't even exist. Everything is simple, easy, and there's no doubt as he heads outside to grab a cab to one of the diners, sitting himself at the bar where he sprawls out, phone in hand, as casual as anything as he texts, fingers speeding away while he tries not to think about work later on.

Modern times are easy as anything, but then, as far as he knows right now, they've never been anything else.

[I'm good for prose or brackets, your pick and I'll match! He's looking more like this and feel free to have him have texted your character!]