paradisa | 2.00% | dictated

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jesse pinkman

2.00% | dictated

[ He mulls it for a while, probably should have done this way earlier than he is now, but, whatever, what the hell, Tess can deal with it. It's just -- Florence, the way he'd left shit with her that week, well. He didn't know how she was feeling about it, he didn't know what she thought she might have gleaned from it, but he didn't expect her to be very happy. ]

[ And he should maybe apologize somewhere in the middle of all that. Maybe. He'll see how she reacts. ]

Tess, it's Jesse. We gotta talk.

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[Tess's knee-jerk reaction is to scoff, and scoff she does. If he wants to talk, he's going to have to be a little lower to the ground.]

Got to?

[ Wow, okay, angrier than he thought. He prostrates, falling onto his bed with the book with a sigh. ]

I don't know, should talk?

How about asking me if I want to? That might get you a little further.

[ It's not like he even wants -- ]

Look, man, if you don't wanna, just say so. Just thought we could, like -- You know, like clear the air or whatever. Jesus.

[A long sigh.

She's supposed to be trying harder than this.]

No, it's fine. Let's clear the air. Where do you want to meet?

[ Meet. ]

Depends. Ya ain't gonna hit me again, are you?

Are you going to push any buttons?

I won't if you don't.

With the exception being you don't flip a shit on me for calling you out on drug use, of course.

Yo, we were in, like, the Middle Ages or some shit. Totally fuckin' legal; you're gonna call me out on that?

This place knows enough about us to take what's precious to us. It knows how to play its cards, and it chose to make you the owner of a drug den.

And I see drugs, I get skeptical. Period. I've never known a seller who wasn't also a user.

[ Okay, fair assessment. Doesn't mean he's admitting to it just yet. ]

So -- Opium, you think I'm on opium or somethin' now, that's it?

Heroin. Cocaine. Meth.

You tell me.

Or maybe it's all of the above. Or maybe it's none of the above. Or maybe I'm on somethin' else entirely.

C'mon. You're gonna start pointin' fingers? What the hell's it matter?

Come on, Jesse, you have to know me well enough by now. It's a risk. I have known enough addicts to know.

And right now, I've got kids around, and I've got teenagers around. You might be able to get Joel in on your little pot nights, but I'm not taking chances with anything more serious than that.

And I've been around enough of 'em to know not every one's a knife-wieldin' lunatic.

[ A small confession about himself, maybe, but not confessing to the drugs. ]

No, you know what, where is a good place we can meet. You wanna call me out on this shit, it ain't gonna be in front'a everyone, it ain't gonna be with bodyguards, you're just gonna call me out on it to my face.

Keep digging yourself a deeper hole.

[But fine, she can meet.]

I'm in the laundry room right now, if you wanna come down.

Yeah, just wait.

[ It's not a threat, but it is irritated, and he claps the book shut solidly then, much more satisfying then an angry hang up. ]

[ He's there at the laundry room soon enough, despite it being a good five floors away, but he's mad; makes him power walk or something. He leans up against the door jamb, his jaw set into a square line. ]

Why're you even doin' laundry? I thought the ghosts did that shit. Are you that bored?

[She turns her head to look at him, even as she moves damp clothes from the washer to an adjacent dryer.]

It's got nothing to do with boredom. It's about responsibility.

[She shucks a dryer sheer in with the clothes, uses her knee to shut the door, and then fiddles with the dials to start it.]

Besides. I hand-washed clothes for twenty years. There's something satisfying about having it done for you in a few hours and everything coming out of the dryer warm. Sure beats hanging it on a line –– it dries all stiff that way.

[Then she leans against the dryer as it starts up and turns to look at him, arms folded against her ribs.]

Yeah, well.

[ Because responsibilities around here mean fuck all, and if someone's going to do his laundry for him, that's fine, that's one less thing he has to worry about. Which just leaves everything else. ]

That's you, then. Me, I don't much mind the ghosts doin' what the ghosts've gotta be doin'. [ He guesses. He still doesn't really know what to do with those things, they freak him out. ]

[ He watches Tess, her and her folded arms, and, fully aware of the fact that he's still coming down off of something even as he speaks, spreads his arms and doesn't move from his spot in the doorway. ] What? Go ahead and say it!

[He can be a bum all he wants, but Tess knows the key to staying sane is to keep busy, and she's not going to give herself that much time in the day to think about how bad things could be. Besides, she doesn't want any ghost touching her underthings. That's too weird, if you ask her.

She lifts her chin a little higher, keeping her expression cool. She unfolds her arms just long enough to beckon to him to come closer, like he's a dog she wants at her feet.]

Come inside. Close the door behind you.

[ She beckons him like a dog and he's just about as dutiful as one at first, shutting the door firmly. But he approaches her like one too, one of those stray ones that's coming up on someone new for the first time. Wary, slow. ]

[ He shrugs again, leaning across the folding table between them instead, his eyes watching her carefully. ] And?

[She beckons him again, and then extends a hand out, palm up, fingers open. Take my hand.]

C'mere.

[ He doesn't move, like she's going to try something the moment he does. ]

Why?

[She smiles a touch, and her voice gets softer. Her hand stays out.]

Because I asked you to. Trust me, here.