[A shrug, ignoring the dig at his work for the most part, still watching from a short distance away. He'll allow the paper rifling, let Jesse assert that bit of dominance.]
Is this gonna be about the whole... watching thing? Because I already called that off.
Well, I know that now. [Muttered under his breath. He's still learning, and things in this world move fast, faster than he can sometimes handle.
And then louder:] Uh, yeah. Bottom left draw, by my chair. There's glasses in there too.
[Jeff edges forward just slightly, prepped to reach for his own half full glass on the desk if he gets the chance. If he is going to die, he'd much rather do so while filled with booze.]
Look. I'd never heard of the guy before. I just figured he was a rival in the business or something. Y'know, maybe White was just trying to scope out the competition. I don't... I don't do private stuff. If I'd known it wasn't business related, I'd never have accepted it.
[Jesse steps around the desk and helps himself to the whiskey, pouring himself a full glass and refilling Jeff's while he's at it. He sets the bottle right there on the desktop for easy access.]
Shit, you really got no idea what you're getting into with Mr. White.
[He takes a sip.]
I guess the first thing to know about him is business is always personal.
[It's only after Jesse's got a glass in his hand that Jeff reaches in for his own, stepping back again once he's obtained it and moving with the slowness of a man facing a loaded gun. No sudden movements and maybe no one will get hurt.]
Okay. I'm starting to get that already. I mean, he wanted to keep watching. Like. Indefinitely. I guess I kinda wanted to get found out just to put a stop to it. [A slow sip in return, swallowing thoughtfully before tacking on:] You realize he's probably a psychopath, right?
[Jesse lets out a giggle that's verging on unhinged.]
Oh yeah, I know.
[And maybe - just maybe - Walt's not the only crazy one in these here parts.]
And Jeff, I got a problem here, because I feel like... You're telling me it's over, and this isn't the shit you're usually into, and you're out, and all that. And I just - I feel like I got no reason to believe you.
I mean, if Mr. White walks in here tomorrow and drops off a big pile of cash, are you really gonna say no? And then you're all up in my business again, following my boys, and that's a big problem for me. How am I supposed to bust a nut when I'm wondering if you're sitting outside with your binoculars and your camera? I mean, seriously.
[And this is why Jeff really needs to stop having greed as his main motivator, because apparently all the rich drug lords are batshit. That laugh is getting a slow arch of an eyebrow anyway, as are the words that follow.]
I'm not out out. He's still my client, I'm not gonna lie to you about that. I shouldn't even be telling you that but I know you know that already. I'm his lawyer, I deal with law, not spying on people and crap like that, but you've got to admit those huge stacks of cash are pretty hard to say no to.
[Jesse takes another sip of whiskey before setting his glass down. He picks up the nearest paper and starts idly rolling it in his hands, forming a tube.]
It's hard to find anything more convincing than money. I can't argue with that.
So you see my issue. On the plus side he's probably not gonna have Joel watched again, right?
[So there's no more problems! Everything is solved. They can all live happily ever after, the end. Still watching Jesse like a hawk though, hands all over his paperwork.]
[It's like watching the dickiest of all cat vids. Except it's Jesse and Jeff's expensive alcohol.]
Don't eve-- Oh, c'mon. [Jeff's just left watching as that beautiful amber liquid spills across the majority of the desk. No point in even trying to move in to clear that up while Jesse's still standing there.] You happy now? You got that out of your system?
[But give him a second. He has to fish his lighter out of his pocket. And once he's got that in hand, he holds up his paper tube and lights the alcohol-soaked end of it. Fwoomp. Now it's a rapidly burning paper torch.]
And just like that the dilemma has gone from a few whiskey soaked items to a potential burning office. Jeff's suddenly in a stance that's somewhere between wanting to pounce the other guy and not daring to move at all. Probably best he doesn't jump Jesse with that glass still in his own hand anyway.]
Okay, okay. You've made your point. Obviously there's more to discuss here. Just... don't. Not the desk. Or any of the office.
[This is the worst time to try and make this sort of decision, which he assumes is sort of the point, but it's really hard to think when his focus is still so solidly locked onto that flame. Not that he has much of a decision to make. There's some fairly obvious consequences to at least one of his possible replies.]
Can't I have both? No, okay, bad time to question that. Sure. Fine. No problem. I can do that.
It's apparently enough to satisfy Jesse, though, because he curls up what's left of that burning paper until it's a ball of fire in his hand, dying as it loses oxygen in his palm. Jesse's scorched skin is already healing, the blackened ashes of the paper flaking away.]
Actually, you can have both.
I don't want him to know you work for me. I want you to keep doing everything he wants. But I wanna know everything. I want you to tell me every move he's making, every job he gives you, even the shit that sounds like nothing I'd wanna hear about.
[Watching that fire come to an end is oddly disconcerting, what with it being put out on bare skin. Healing powers or not, surely that's got to hurt, surely. If fire isn't getting Jesse to react, then there's no way a few punches from Jeff is going to do anything.]
Jesse. Man, if he finds out, I would be in so much trouble. Like. More trouble than this. Like, dead kind of trouble. I'm pretty sure his threats weren't a bluff. [Especially not after how he's seen Joel and Jesse react to all this.]
I'm not gonna tell him! [He's quick to say, just staring to take a step forward.]
I won't tell anyone. [Jesus, his poor heart. His poor everything.] I just... You're paying, right? I mean, you're doing great with this whole mobster Goodfella's threatening thing. Gold star, A+. But you can't expect me to do this kinda crap pro bono.
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Is this gonna be about the whole... watching thing? Because I already called that off.
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Sure you did. But you delivered the goods, right? Damage done.
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[As if that makes it all better. Surely if Jeff can handle being followed around by a TV crew, these guys can cope with a bit of attention too.]
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[Jesse gives a glance around the room.]
You got any whiskey or anything?
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And then louder:] Uh, yeah. Bottom left draw, by my chair. There's glasses in there too.
[Jeff edges forward just slightly, prepped to reach for his own half full glass on the desk if he gets the chance. If he is going to die, he'd much rather do so while filled with booze.]
Look. I'd never heard of the guy before. I just figured he was a rival in the business or something. Y'know, maybe White was just trying to scope out the competition. I don't... I don't do private stuff. If I'd known it wasn't business related, I'd never have accepted it.
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Shit, you really got no idea what you're getting into with Mr. White.
[He takes a sip.]
I guess the first thing to know about him is business is always personal.
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Okay. I'm starting to get that already. I mean, he wanted to keep watching. Like. Indefinitely. I guess I kinda wanted to get found out just to put a stop to it. [A slow sip in return, swallowing thoughtfully before tacking on:] You realize he's probably a psychopath, right?
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Oh yeah, I know.
[And maybe - just maybe - Walt's not the only crazy one in these here parts.]
And Jeff, I got a problem here, because I feel like... You're telling me it's over, and this isn't the shit you're usually into, and you're out, and all that. And I just - I feel like I got no reason to believe you.
I mean, if Mr. White walks in here tomorrow and drops off a big pile of cash, are you really gonna say no? And then you're all up in my business again, following my boys, and that's a big problem for me. How am I supposed to bust a nut when I'm wondering if you're sitting outside with your binoculars and your camera? I mean, seriously.
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I'm not out out. He's still my client, I'm not gonna lie to you about that. I shouldn't even be telling you that but I know you know that already. I'm his lawyer, I deal with law, not spying on people and crap like that, but you've got to admit those huge stacks of cash are pretty hard to say no to.
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[Jesse takes another sip of whiskey before setting his glass down. He picks up the nearest paper and starts idly rolling it in his hands, forming a tube.]
It's hard to find anything more convincing than money. I can't argue with that.
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[So there's no more problems! Everything is solved. They can all live happily ever after, the end. Still watching Jesse like a hawk though, hands all over his paperwork.]
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[Jesse does an odd thing, then, and dips his paper tube into his whiskey. Stirring it around with not much of a care if it's spilling over the sides.]
So maybe he'll convince you to be back at it tomorrow, for all I know.
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Uh? Can you not? [That's good whiskey, bro. Also confidential papers or something. But seriously, good whiskey.]
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Don't eve-- Oh, c'mon. [Jeff's just left watching as that beautiful amber liquid spills across the majority of the desk. No point in even trying to move in to clear that up while Jesse's still standing there.] You happy now? You got that out of your system?
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[But give him a second. He has to fish his lighter out of his pocket. And once he's got that in hand, he holds up his paper tube and lights the alcohol-soaked end of it. Fwoomp. Now it's a rapidly burning paper torch.]
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And just like that the dilemma has gone from a few whiskey soaked items to a potential burning office. Jeff's suddenly in a stance that's somewhere between wanting to pounce the other guy and not daring to move at all. Probably best he doesn't jump Jesse with that glass still in his own hand anyway.]
Okay, okay. You've made your point. Obviously there's more to discuss here. Just... don't. Not the desk. Or any of the office.
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[And that paper's burning close to his fingertips, so Jesse starts to lower it.]
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[But he's also hunkering down just slightly, because he swears just as much he'll tackle Jesse if he has to.]
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You work for me now. How's that sound?
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[This is the worst time to try and make this sort of decision, which he assumes is sort of the point, but it's really hard to think when his focus is still so solidly locked onto that flame. Not that he has much of a decision to make. There's some fairly obvious consequences to at least one of his possible replies.]
Can't I have both? No, okay, bad time to question that. Sure. Fine. No problem. I can do that.
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It's apparently enough to satisfy Jesse, though, because he curls up what's left of that burning paper until it's a ball of fire in his hand, dying as it loses oxygen in his palm. Jesse's scorched skin is already healing, the blackened ashes of the paper flaking away.]
Actually, you can have both.
I don't want him to know you work for me. I want you to keep doing everything he wants. But I wanna know everything. I want you to tell me every move he's making, every job he gives you, even the shit that sounds like nothing I'd wanna hear about.
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Jesse. Man, if he finds out, I would be in so much trouble. Like. More trouble than this. Like, dead kind of trouble. I'm pretty sure his threats weren't a bluff. [Especially not after how he's seen Joel and Jesse react to all this.]
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He's not gonna find out unless you tell him. I mean... Are you gonna tell him? I could go back to Plan A.
[He reaches for another alcohol-soaked paper.]
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I won't tell anyone. [Jesus, his poor heart. His poor everything.] I just... You're paying, right? I mean, you're doing great with this whole mobster Goodfella's threatening thing. Gold star, A+. But you can't expect me to do this kinda crap pro bono.
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