Jeff -- do you honestly think a pharmacist needs a safehouse somewhere, runs from a psychiatrist who specializes in torturing the criminally insane and his loyal FBI dog, and makes the kind of bank I've been giving you -- in cash?

[ Now, Walt knows Jeff knows they weren't talking about the pharmacy. But they needn't dance around the topic any longer because in Walt's eyes it was so obvious he was a drug dealer. ]

I run a crystal meth empire.

[ There. There's the ugly truth. ]

And as long as you keep me protected from the law under the law -- you will only just reap the benefits. In just one single year back home, I made eighty million dollars. Think about that for a moment, Jeff. Imagine it.