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[magnets]

Sunuva- bitch.

[ The camera goes all screwy as Jesse pushes himself up, sits back on his knees and sweeps his hands off on each other. He doesn't seem to notice the camera's even on as he paws at himself and finally stands, swearing a few times under his breath as he does. Idly beats some gravel off his jeans. He sounds dumbfounded when he finally speaks again. ] I'm back here.

[ And the camera turns with him, a few confused steps before he throws his arms out to both sides, an irritated kind of shrug. ] I'm back- here. [ And his hand raises again, so he can first tap a finger against the screen, and then slap an angry palm against it a few times. He repeats, ] Sunuvabitch.

[ Then he finally fiddles with the buttons, intending to turn on the communicator, but, ] oh, [ it's already on. ] Ya wanna clue me in here? [ He glances around the area. ] Yo, anyone still out there?

Comments

[rigging]

Yeah, well, not all of us get t'go on vacation. [ This time it's more grumpy sounding than anything. He doesn't mean it. ] Thought you was gonna be gone like the rest of 'em, you asshole.

[magnets]

Vacation. [ And he laughs hollowly; there's a mighty sniff as he grabs at his nose and pinches hard. ] Yeah, that's where I been. Motherfuckin' vacation.

Why're you pissed at me? Ain't my fault if they chuck me back home, like, take away? Like, my remembering this place at all? Chuck me back here again like it's a joke? Ain't my fault. [ A beat, and then, ] Why? What? How long was I out for?

[ Months, he's figuring. That's what it's been. Months. ]

[rigging]

I ain't pissed at you and I ain't saying it's yer fault, get off your soapbox, Pinkman. [ Jesse protests, pissy. Because it's not, and Jesse knows! He sighs. ] Two days. Not long. But enough. You don't come back in a day and usually you don't at all.

[magnets]

Two days? How's that even- [ No. No way, he's done questioning this place. He's been through too much shit to think too hard about this bullshit. ]

Ya sure now? Cuz ya still sound pretty cranky over there. [ He pauses again, and then, ] Yo, two days. You're sweatin' me over two days?

[ He doesn't really get it yet. Not used to people being worried about him anymore. ]

( casually privates )

[rigging]

[ Excuse you. ] What, there a time limit for this sorta thing? [ He is cranky, jeeze. ] You was gone long enough for me t'wonder if the fuckin' scientists got hold of you.

[ Look, he'll even private it. ] You're my friend, Pinkman, fuck me for worrying.

[magnets]

Two days is, like, a bender. I could'a just been passed out on the beach for a day for alls you know. [ He wipes a hand over his mouth, thinking it over. ] You know what? I been gone 'round four months, way I see it, so for all I know, they got their like pervy-ass grabby hands all over me. So thanks. For bringin' that up.

[ He feels sick to his stomach, shaky and wrong. The guys upstairs definitely did something, and he looks uncomfortable just thinking about it. ]

Look, I'm back, right? So just like- Y'know, cool it.

[rigging]

[ He's been gone four months. That hits Jesse a little hard, because he knows how much can happen in four months. And he has a hard time admitting it out loud, but Pinkman's the closest thing to a good friend he's got in this place. Pinkman gets him a little better than most. And if there's one thing Jesse can't stand more than anything, it's people refusing to let him care.

Deep breath. Stop being angry. When Jesse came back, Pinkman helped him. Jesse swallows his anger the best he can. ]

Where are you now? You alright?

[magnets]

I'm-

[ He jerks at his jacket as he starts walking, and then finally says in a voice like he doesn't even believe it, ] -fine.

[ He starts off a few more steps before he stops with a sigh. ] Look, I'm goin' to my house, cuz if I've only been gone a couple'a days, that guy stayin' there with me's makin' a mess in there, and I gotta, [ Yeah, that sentence trails off quick as he pats at his jacket with a free hand and screws up his face. Four months, and being back here feels like a bad dream just like everything else; it's still not settling in right. ]

Why, you comin'?

[rigging]

[ Yeah, Jesse doesn't believe that either. It just makes him even more worried. ]

Yeah, I'm coming. [ Jesse tells him firmly, already pulling a jacket on. ] You got someone staying there, now? [ A beat. ] If there's a mess, I got it. I'll meet you there, yeah? [ Not like he's giving Pinkman much of a choice, to be honest. ]

[magnets]

Yeah, man, some- detective guy, if he's still there. He's like kickin' in my walls and drinkin' all my shit. [ The booze he stole from the bar in the first place, but whatever. It's his. Still. ]

[ He nods a few times. ] Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ya ain't cleanin' up after me, though. [ Not that it's up after him. Whatever. ] See ya. [ And he clicks off the communicator. ]

→ action

[rigging]

[ Hey, whatever you take back to the house counts as yours, in Jesse's opinion. But whatever, he's on his way, he's got a bottle of booze (for emergencies) and it won't take long for him to get there.

When he does, he knocks on the door. It's only a little aggressive. ]

[magnets]

Yo, it's open.

[ Jesse calls from the kitchen, and when Finch makes his way in, he's going to be holding a water bottle, angrily digging some scissors into the side of it. He jams the point through and nicks himself, with a, ] Ow, sunuva-

[ He sucks on his finger, the web between his thumb and his index finger, and then he finally looks up at Finch, eyes a little hooded like he's just now realizing how much he'd really missed him. ] Hey.

[rigging]

[ Jesse lets himself in easily enough, and heads to the kitchen. Seeing Pinkman for real gives him a similar feeling - shit, it's only been two days, but Jesse had been getting used to having him around. Used to having him as a friend. Pinkman had been one of the first people he'd actually befriended, here.

So when Pinkman looks up at him, the first thing Jesse does is set down his booze and punch Pinkman in the arm. ] Fucker, don't let 'em take you anywhere again. [ He says, angrily, and then - disregarding the scissors and water bottle entirely, wraps his arms around Pinkman and hugs the hell out of him.

And from Pinkman's shoulder, muffled: ] No homo. Asshole.

[magnets]

Hey, whoa! [ Jesse yells out and jumps that step away when Finch punches at him, rubs his arm deliberately and starts to move to lean back against the counter. ] Cool it, man, I thought we were-

[ And he flinches away initially, instinctively, when his voice cuts off. He can't remember the last time he's been hugged- no, it was months ago, Brock, after he was okay. It's all he can think about when his free arm finally wraps around Finch's back, and he bangs a fist two times on Finch's back as comforting as he can manage. ] Yeah, yeah, just don't pop nothin' while you're huggin' me like this, I know ya gotta restrain yourself.

[rigging]

Shut up. [ Jesse grumbles, holding Pinkman more tightly. Yeah, he knows dudes don't hug, whatever, but he missed Pinkman and he's going to hug him. He can't handle losing more friends. It takes him a few moments to pull away, but when he does, he sniffs once and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking away. ]

Cool it on the gay jokes, alright, I'm fuckin' serious. I know yer gonna get all fuckin' - whatever [ And he pulls his hand out of his pocket to wave it around ] but just take it, for once. Least dirty way possible.

Just glad you're back, is all. [ Casual sniff, and he leans against the counter, not looking at Pinkman. ]

[magnets]

[ Jesse gives a half of a laugh, a huff of a thing, before he looks up at Finch properly and, oh, he means business. And the smile slips right off Jesse's face, replaced with something quite a bit guiltier. ]

Sorry, man. [ He ducks his head as he says it, wrinkles his nose as he turns the scissors in the bottle to widen the hole. He keeps working on whatever he's doing, doesn't look up again as he stabs another hole into the bottle. ] Hell yeah, bitch, back in business.

[ He waits a beat before he speaks up again, offhandedly, ] Kinda think I missed it.

[rigging]

[ Jesse sighs at that, wishing he had something to thunk his head against. He usually doesn't mind, and it bothers him now that it bothers him. Whatever it is, Pinkman's apology soothes his uneasiness a little, and he squirms, waving his hand again. Don't worry about it. It's fine. He'll get over it.

And after that beat, Jesse looks up, with a weary sort of smile. ] Yeah? You said you was gone months.

... S'probably much calmer here than it was at home, huh? [ Jesse doesn't know much, but he can imagine meth dealers don't have quiet lives. ]

[magnets]

Yeah. [ Jesse doesn't look up at Finch for a moment as he turns the bottle over, flips on his lighter to burn a bubble into the plastic on the side of the thing. ] Almost half a year.

[ He's quiet for a few long seconds as he thinks it over, eyes flickering to Finch once or twice, almost guilty like his look from before. Calmer. Yeah. That was one word for it. It's a long debate before he speaks again, and it's after he blows away the smoke from the water bottle. He leans up against the counter and something clunks - he clutches at something at the small of his back and tugs his shirt down further. Doesn't really explain a thing. ]

Robbed a train.

[rigging]

[ Half a year. Jeeze. Just like Kenzi - she'd been gone for about the same, Jesse thinks. The silence doesn't bother him, not much, because he's too busy watching Pinkman MacGyver the shit out of the water bottle. Is that a bong? Because if it is, Jesse's impressed. And also maybe a bit fidgety.

That clunking noise is suspicious too, and Jesse jumps, slightly, not expecting it. And that...

A beat. ] Wait, y'did what? [ He'll be getting back to that clunking noise in a minute, but first: ] You robbed a train? Y'can't just say that and not explain.

[magnets]

[ Yeah, he picks up on that, his eyes moving to Finch again. He stops making his monstrosity for now. ] Yo, it's just weed, okay? They just Doc Brown'd my ass, I got, like- [ He waves a hand around. ] Like, anxiety.

[ And he ducks his head a little, mashing a square of aluminum foil into one of the holes on the water bottle. Technically, it's a bowl. ] I'm off the crystal.

[ But the second bit, he's getting to it, it gets a grin, something at the corners. ] Yeah? Like Jesse James. [ His grin springs full out then. ] Why, you want details?

[rigging]

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.

[magnets]

[ And Jesse hears it, stiffens in the slightest and pauses what he's doing, but he doesn't call attention to it, just starts moving his hands again, keeping busy, keeping busy. He's not gonna think about how long it's gonna take him to traipse back to the blue again, and he's really not going to think about who it was that put that thought in his head in the first place. ]

[ In fact he's still grinning, shakes his head a little as he methodically tapes down the foil, nods along. ] All right, all right. So-

[ He hesitates again, wondering why the fuck he's telling this story considering what went into it, the consequences that they'd already run through from the idea that nobody else could've known about this heist. And now he's blabbing it to Finch? But it feels kind of like he should. ]

So, like- Methylamine. Hard to come by, real hard, New Mexico's dry as shit and we kinda need it, for, [ and he waves a vague hand, as if the gesture means, you know, cooking meth, ] well, anyway. [ He's at the last step of his project, starts to rummage in his pockets for- there it is, his weed, and he unrolls the bad with one fell swoop. ] Major rap, can't let anyone know we took this. We're talkin' watering down the methylamine so's we don't clue anyone off at the weigh stations and everything. Switch it out with hoses and everything, [ and he holds the bag and the bottle in one hand so he can snap with the other a few times, ] quick, quick, quick.

[ He has to admit: This is pretty exhilarating to talk about. ] So we block the tracks, get the pumps goin', switch everything out and, [ he snaps one final time for emphasis, ] bang, bang, everything falls into place, we get straight out in the nick'a time. [ He looks up at Finch finally, eyebrows raised. ] Yo, I was layin' on the train tracks when the thing took off. Close motherfuckin' call.

[rigging]

[ Really, who is Finch going to tell? He knows better, anyway. If someone from Pinkman's universe came around Kore, Jesse would keep his mouth shut, because he might not be a dealer himself but he's sure as fuck dealt with them before. He knows how risky this shit is, and how much trouble Pinkman could get in if he told.

So he listens. Watches Pinkman as he finishes getting the bag and bottle together, hands still in his pockets. Telling it is exhilarating and listening is pretty intense as well, and Jesse can stop the half grin on his face. It really is wild west, or even Ocean's Eleven, all sorts of big-time heist. And Pinkman sounds so entirely convincing that even if he were lying (and Jesse doesn't think he is) it'd still be entirely believable. ]

Jesus fuck, man. [ Jesse says, with a low whistle. ] So I was right, much calmer here. Whatta badass, you. [ No, seriously, feel free to preen a little, Pinkman, because he does really sound impressed! It's super cool. And because he REALLY can't help it: ] So like, did you lose an asscheek in this heist or something? Cause your ass hitting the counter shouldn't be makin' a metallic clanking sound unless you got a literal ass of steel.

[magnets]

[ And he is raking in the pride for a moment or two, even gives a bit of a laugh when Finch calls him a badass, shrugs his shoulders like 'what can you do?'. ]

[ It doesn't get to last very long, his smile slowly fading off his face when he asks about the noise, and Jesse almost instinctively clutches at the gun again to make sure it's still there, tucked safely back there where the motherfuckers left it, left him - why here? Why leave it with him? Was he going to need it? Or was it just to taunt him for whatever reason? Jesse's a deer in the headlights for a split second before he looks down at the bowl in his hands, with an incredibly unconvincing, ] What? No -

[ Kind of telling when he doesn't even join in on the joke, and Jesse busies himself with packing the foil for a moment, doesn't look up at Finch for those long few seconds until his thumb is pressing down the weed into the makeshift screen and - he sets the bottle and the bag aside, reaches back into his waistline and sets the gun onto the counter without a word. ]

[ His jaw works as he does, but he just picks up the bottle again and starts to light up. He asks in a croak after another beat, a few small tendrils of smoke making their ways out of his mouth, ] You want any?

[rigging]

[ Oh - Jesse doesn't mean to cause that sort of reaction, and he bites at his lip when Pinkman's quiet and edgy about it. Maybe he should've left it alone.

But it's a gun. Pinkman has a gun, and Jesse looks down at it for a moment, just taking it in. Taking it seriously. Alright - alright. One deep breath, inhale and exhale, then he reaches for the bottle of vodka to take the cap off and take a drink. And then he looks up at Pinkman, and settles back down against the counter, raising his eyebrows a little. It's alright. He doesn't mind - it just means that Pinkman has a way to protect himself, and Jesse's glad for that.

He'll also make grabby hands for that bottle. ] Fuck yeah I want some. [ He gets that anxiety problem, Pinkman. ] Don't freak out. I don't give a shit that you got a gun, and I ain't gonna tell anybody. [ So just. Trust him on this one. ]