[ Faraday snorts derisively, batting away Vasquez’s hand – not nearly as fiercely as he might have done when they first met, though. It’s more a token gesture, like waving away a persistent gnat. ]

Who needs luck when you’ve got skill? Seems to me you’re forgettin’ you’re speakin’ to the world’s greatest lover.

[ He punctuates the boast by draining the last of his whiskey from his glass. ]