[The lazing is mirrored, Jeff's lounging intensifying as he sips at his scotch. He still hasn't offered Walt any, and whether that's purposeful or an oversight remains to be seen. Those words earn an arch of a thin brow as he considers them, but doesn't seem to take it all that personally.]

C'mon, Mr. White. You don't need to threaten a guy like me. Money is way more effective than any risk of face mutilation. Just keep sending it my way and I'll see you right.

[These are the words of a man who is perfectly used to using words to get himself out of every situation, and very successfully so. That bulk? Those muscles? The height? All for display.]