I ain't saying nothing! [ Jesse says defensively. He probably would've if it was meth, though, so Pinkman's justified, really. Jesse doesn't have a problem with weed (he's actually concerned about that anxiety bit) and he's really, really glad to hear that Pinkman's off the crystal. It relieves him a little, and he relaxes, with a small sniff.

Look, maybe he mumbles something like fucking good under his breath while he shifts against the counter, but whatever. He's not judging, he's really not, and he'd never tell Pinkman to stop.

As for the train: ] -- Dude, fuck yeah. [ Okay, okay, he grins at that. Pinkman's is infectious. ] C'mon. Tell me, I wanna hear all about it, you crazy wild west motherfucker.