[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.
Do you have any idea how much you owe me for the shit you put me through with this? I mean, of course you don't, because you're an idiot. Let's just say this whole thing's gonna hurt me a lot more than it'll hurt you.
[That lit paper is the best way to stop Jeff arguing. Super effective.]
I'm sorry, okay? I'll do it, you know I will. And you also know that if you set fire to this office, the deal is void before it's even begun. Don't waste that.
[They're still talking. He'll let this paper keep burning.]
Show me a little respect. I'm nicer than him, but I'll still murder your ass and flush your body down my toilet.
Anyway, back to what I was saying: I don't pay you for repaying your debt to me. You tell me what I wanna know. And if you ever get around to impressing me, then maybe we can talk cash money.
[This is the worst day. Why are so many of his days being the worst right now? Fuck you, Walter White, you make all things the worst.
But respect is asked for and it's given, Jeff shutting up long enough to hear what has to be said and not answering back. There was threat of death, sure, but that flame is a more present threat right now.]
Pro bono it is, and I'm sure it'll be a total pleasure to work for you, Mr. Pinkman. Give me some actual law to do and I'll impress your ass off. Until then... guess I'll just repay that debt.
Good. Because I'm richer than he is, Jeff. By like... a lot.
[And he knows that's what really matters. A threat is only really good for getting someone's attention, not holding it.
The fire burns itself away between his fingers and Jesse brushes what's left of the paper onto the leg of his jeans. He picks up his glass and the bottle, pouring himself another drink.]
Now it wasn't just you, right? Who else was watching Joel? I could use a name and address.
[At least Jesse's worked out quickly what Jeff's motivations are, because he's damn right. Threats are fine for the present, but it won't be long before Jeff puts it all out of his mind and denies it ever happened. But money? Knowing there's the possibility for plenty of it is enough to keep him interested.]
Just some native that works for me. He does that kinda crap all the time. He won't bother you guys again. If I give his details up I'm gonna start losing trust in those kinda guys real quick and I need them.
Great to know confidentiality is important to you. [But he's dragging his phone out of his pocket with the hand not still clutching onto his scotch.] What are you uh, gonna do? Like. With the details? You're not gonna... I mean if you are, I can't... [Plz don't kill anyone.]
[Why are morals so hard? He misses not having them.] Jesse, I'm serious, you gotta tell me he'll come out of it alive or I can't give him up. I guess I got a line, and killing natives is it.
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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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Do you have any idea how much you owe me for the shit you put me through with this? I mean, of course you don't, because you're an idiot. Let's just say this whole thing's gonna hurt me a lot more than it'll hurt you.
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[That lit paper is the best way to stop Jeff arguing. Super effective.]
I'm sorry, okay? I'll do it, you know I will. And you also know that if you set fire to this office, the deal is void before it's even begun. Don't waste that.
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Show me a little respect. I'm nicer than him, but I'll still murder your ass and flush your body down my toilet.
Anyway, back to what I was saying: I don't pay you for repaying your debt to me. You tell me what I wanna know. And if you ever get around to impressing me, then maybe we can talk cash money.
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But respect is asked for and it's given, Jeff shutting up long enough to hear what has to be said and not answering back. There was threat of death, sure, but that flame is a more present threat right now.]
Pro bono it is, and I'm sure it'll be a total pleasure to work for you, Mr. Pinkman. Give me some actual law to do and I'll impress your ass off. Until then... guess I'll just repay that debt.
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[And he knows that's what really matters. A threat is only really good for getting someone's attention, not holding it.
The fire burns itself away between his fingers and Jesse brushes what's left of the paper onto the leg of his jeans. He picks up his glass and the bottle, pouring himself another drink.]
Now it wasn't just you, right? Who else was watching Joel? I could use a name and address.
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Just some native that works for me. He does that kinda crap all the time. He won't bother you guys again. If I give his details up I'm gonna start losing trust in those kinda guys real quick and I need them.
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