[Instead of saying anything to complain about the direction this night has taken, Vasquez casually shrugs and sits back, still playing with her hair, running his tongue over his teeth as he grins at her, which ought to at least give some indication about how much he's willing to do.
He only wishes he could speak, now, instead of having to sing every thought out loud.]
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He only wishes he could speak, now, instead of having to sing every thought out loud.]