Vasquez is lost about that word. "Aftercare?" He shakes his head, not knowing what the fuck he means. "I meant that I'd comb it again," he says, cocking a brow upwards, because he's not entirely sure what kind of care Bobo is after. Still, he tugs it again with a grin, playing with fire and hoping to get burned.

"Don't worry about shy, but I think I like to do this with a bed. Had too many rough gos in my time and if I don't have to, I don't want to," is his opinion.