[They've got a rapport built off pounding bass and being the only person the other can even kind of talk to. Maybe not about a lot, but something.
When she's not crying from a lack of food or sleep for days on end, El's - odd. Prone to strange and awkward silences. Enough alcohol in her and that gives way to a bright charisma. Otherwise - impulsive. Sarcastic. Self aware enough to try to stagger shooting up, but there's already a pattern forming, whenever she gets back to the party. It probably says a lot that Jesse's party is safer to shoot up in, than the apartment she's staying at with her uncle.
They aren't exactly friends, but they aren't anything else, and she likes getting tacos with him. They're on the way now, though El's coming down from a high, still relaxed and sluggish. Not really hungry, but the tacos are nice anyway.]
So you got this...party, all the time, but you don't get high, or drink? When I was sober I couldn't even smell booze without craving... [El gestures as she talks in the passenger seat of Jesse's car, leaning her head against the window. It's a nice day, bright and sunny--
The window shatters under her head. El flinches back, old instinct driving her to silence, not screaming, as the glass crumbles - she's stuck processing that for a moment as two other sharp pops sound.]
Is that for you, or me? [--which is about the least fucking helpful thing she could be doing, she realizes, and puts her head down before it gets blown off.]
[ It's kind of nice, the routine they've got going on. Jesse gets to stay out of his own head for a while and El gets free tacos. It's nice to get a break from the chaos that his house is slowly devolving into. At first, coming home was a relief, but as things grow more and more hectic behind his walls he sometimes finds himself wondering when he'll get home to find the place surrounded by red and blue flashing lights or the whole thing burnt to the ground. Both scenarios are getting more and more plausible and he knows how much it's probably pissing off Gus that he's being so reckless, but he can't bring himself to care enough to put a stop to it. Not yet, anyway.
Maybe a bullet or two'll change his mind, though. Jesse's wrenched from his thoughts at the sight of his passenger side window exploding in a hail of broken glass and he haphazardly throws his bag of tacos into the backseat, slamming his gear-shift into reverse before he even thinks about what he's doing. He pulls open the glovebox, pulling a gun out from within when there are two sharp pop sounds, one right after the other. He feels the breeze as the first bullet whizzes by his head, causing him to bring an arm up instinctively. The second sound comes and there's a sharp burning in his upper arm but he's focusing on getting them the hell out of there over anything else.
Tires squeal, smoke rising from the burning rubber as he peels out of the parking lot backward and shifts into drive, taking off down the street. His arm feels warm. Too warm. The sleeve of his sweatshirt is growing dark and heavy with his blood as his icy blue eyes flick up to the rearview mirror. He's trying to shake the tail following him like Mike taught him and he just barely manages by running a red light, taking some misleading turns, and then turning his headlights off for a couple of streets. He manages to pull into his garage, finally, his head spinning. He cuts the engine and leans back against the seat, panting. ]
I think I lost 'em.
[ The fact that he's been shot hasn't quite registered yet, though he's feeling dizzier by the minute, eyes lolling over towards El lazily, who he'd all but shoved into the footwell of the front seat to keep her out of harm's way. He reaches up with his good arm to press a button closing the garage door and keeping them out of sight.
Jesse grimaces as the pain starts to set in, the adrenaline rush waning. He reaches across his body to grip his upper arm, the wet fabric of his hoodie squelching beneath his fingers as he tries to slow the bleeding. ]
[She twists enough to catch sight, for just a moment, of two men in a beige camry, before Jesse shoves her down.
She goes still and quiet, twisting around to watch Jesse, her knees up, huddled in a small ball. The heroin makes this less of her problem - it always has, whether it was living with her parents or her uncle or on the road.
But the blood dripping down Jesse's arm is going to be their problem, whether she likes it or not. She shoves herself out of the footwell and plants her hands over Jesse's, pressing hard - enough to make him shout if he isn't ready, but she remembers how hard you need to press to stem the bleeding. It's not pleasant.]
Sorry. What do we-- [Her voice frays, and she has to try again.] Jesse, what do we do? C'mon--hospital? Ambulance? [But if they go back out they risk getting shot up, and calling in an ambulance for a gunshot will bring the cops, not what any of them need.] Do I call anyone?
[There's two main possibilities she sees: someone's going after Jesse, or someone's going after her. She's not sure what his deal is, but to do what he does and live like he does, it's nothing legal or safe. For her end, her uncle's stepping on toes peddling heroin around here, and while he can't use her to sell, they've been seen together. It wouldn't be impossible for them to go after her.
(The third she doesn't know about, of course, is Walter White - whether this is some scheme of his or revenge taken against him via Jesse.)]
Jesse sees the beige colored sedan, too, and thankfully is able to lose them before they get to his house. He couldn't get a good enough look at who was inside, other than the fact that there were at least two people in the front seats--men, from what he could see, but he couldn't make out much about their faces, unable to look for long enough to process it what with the speed and all of the hairpin turns he had to take. He hears himself yelp before it registers that the sound is coming out of him as El clamps down hard on his arm. Fuck, it hurts, but he knows he'll be of no use at all if he loses much more blood. Trying to keep calm so his pulse doesn't go too high, he turns towards her, licking over his lips before he speaks.
Tell everyone inside the party's over. Tell 'em cops are comin' or somethin. Then take my cellphone and call Saul Goodman. He'll know who to send.
[ Jesse rifles through his pocket with the hand of his good arm, shakily holding out a cheap flip-phone. ]
His number's in my contacts.
[ Jesse grits his teeth, jaw muscles twitching as he does so. He hisses as he sucks in a breath, trying to hold it together as the burning and throbbing in his arm intensify, his fingertips starting to go numb and tingly. ]
I didn't recognize the car, but anybody smart would use a rental or cheap junker for that sorta thing, not their personal vehicle. S'gotta be somebody on my boss' team. That or cartel. I dunno. Pretty sure the cartel's the only one with balls enough to fuck with my boss. He's kind of a big deal around the Southwest.
Here-- [She maneuvers her hoodie, fallen to the floor, with a foot until she can grab it with one hand, trying to wrap it around his arm. Not a full tourniquet, she fuzzily remembers from a first aid class her ex made her go to a couple of years ago. That'll cut off circulation. But hard enough to stop the bleeding. As she works, she speaks.]
Might be my fault. [Her tone's flat.] My uncle's slinging H. God knows he's stepping on toes here, and I've been--with him before. Not hard to find me.
[That's probably the most detail she's ever given about her situation. She's tight-lipped about whatever's happened to her. She presses Jesse's hand over the sweater she's knotted and takes the cell, giving him a last look before she gets out of the garage and rushes inside.
It's like setting off a gun in a room full of cats - and the blood on her doesn't hurt. Everyone scatters, and the house is empty in under two minutes. El dials.
It's not the weirdest conversation she's had in her life, but it's up there. The man's smarmy, and it takes arguing and having to shout that they got shot at and can't fucking leave the house without risk of attracting attention, but finally she gets a promise that someone'll be there within a half hour.]
Chin up, keep the kid alive and you'll be fine.
[Click. El kicks away the worst of the detritus and goes back to get Jesse, half afraid he's already dead. She can't carry him on her own, either.]
Maybe; I dunno, I don't sell that stuff. I only deal with meth really. Sometimes a little weed here an' there. Heroin, though? If he was involved could be my ex owed him money but like...if you think it was somebody after you I'm not sure. I kinda' just figured it was for me. I'm not in the best standings with the bossman right now and, like. He's got enemies, too. Takin' me out would be a helluva way to get his attention.
[ Jesse rambles on, his voice growing thin and raspy, words more slurred than spoken as he fights to keep his eyes open. He knows he can't sleep. Sleeping means there's a good chance he won't wake up again. He shifts in his seat, pressing his feet down into the footwell to adjust himself so he's sitting up a little straighter. He groans as El wraps her sweatshirt around his arm. It's tight, but not crushing. He might end up needing something sturdier, though, if the bleeding doesn't slow enough.
Jesse tries to stay awake as El disappears inside of the house. It's a few seconds before he hears scrambling footsteps, doors opening, soft thudding as people leave the house and run across the lawn. He contemplates what El told him--about how her uncle sells heroin. He had no idea, but it says something that she trusts him with that kind of information. He clings to that thought as he waits for her to return, clamping his hand down harder on top of the makeshift tourniquet. He wants to live, but not just for himself. He wants to live as much as he doesn't want her to find his body. She doesn't need that--not with everything he can imagine she's already been through what with her uncle's choice of employment. ]
What'd he say?
[ Jesse asks about Saul, wanting to know how long he has to try to keep it together. He shoulders the car door open and gets out with El's help, trying to keep his footing because he's pretty sure she can't pick him up off the garage floor even though he's relatively scrawny. ]
How long?
[ Jesse whimpers, trying to bite back the sound as his arm is jostled with his clumsy steps, leaving a trail of blood droplets spattered on the concrete floor as he walks towards the interior door leading into the kitchen and dining room. He's still bleeding, but it's a lot slower than it had been on the drive to his house. ]
[El hoists his good arm over her shoulder to keep him walking, murmuring an apology to the grunt of pain while she wraps her other arm around his waist. She's a touch taller than him, ever quite realized before, given they both tend to slump around.
At most, half an hour. Hopefully less. You want the couch or the bed?
[Couch is dirtier but closer, bed is somewhere upstairs. She's never been up there, but can see the way.]
Just keep talking. You're bad with your boss, but someone could take you out to get back at him. Cartel. You want me to be ready to shoot if anyone tries to come in without knocking?
[It's a hell of a thing to say to the sort-of friend who gives her free tacos, but Jesse's the nicest person she's interacted with in months and he just saved her life, and she's operating on old lessons. Lines drawn in the sand and loyalty. What being shot at means. She doesn't think she could kill her uncle (even if she fantasizes about it), but anyone else...
Not the first time she's disposed of a body either, if it comes to it. She feels, for a moment, a little disconnected from herself, the stretch of adrenaline mixed with the drugs mixed with the edge of memories she desperately doesn't want to remember. But then she takes another step with Jesse and it feels okay as long as she has someone to keep alive.]
[ Jesse looks back over his shoulder, gesturing with his head in the direction of the car. Probably a good idea to bring his piece inside anyway. He's not exactly thinking entirely clearly right now, what with the life slowly leaking out of his arm, growing weaker by the minute. Saul had better consider this matter urgent and not some overreaction on El's part, though the fact that Jesse hadn't picked up the phone and called himself probably tipped Saul off as to the seriousness of the matter. ]
Just lock the door. Keep the piece on you. You'll know if you need to use it.
[ Jesse isn't normally someone to trust anyone else with his gun. Not just because guns are dangerous, but because he knows the consequences that come from using one. He knows that having to pull the trigger is something that can haunt you for the rest of your life. He doesn't want that for El, but he's pretty certain he can't hold a gun steady enough to be a good shot with his arm all fucked up like it is and, if push comes to shove, being traumatized is better than being dead.
Jesse leans heavily against the doorframe, trying not to slump to the floor as El leaves him briefly to retrieve the weapon. He stumbles inside, wondering if he'll even be able to make it up the steps to his room. Probably not, and he doesn't want to risk taking a fall down the staircase. ]
There's a guest room through there...
[ Jesse points to a doorway across the living room that leads towards the area of the house where the kitchen and dining room are. There's a guestroom and guest bathroom before the kitchen. It's probably cleaner than his bedroom, having been closed off during the parties that he threw. It's a good thing this house has got some spare rooms.
He finally makes it to the bed, blood already starting to stain the blanket that he collapses on, but he can't bring himself to care about that. Not when he's just trying to stay alive until help comes. He's starting to sweat, beads of moisture forming on his forehead and temples in spite of shivery spasms that seem to suggest he's cold. His face is pale, more than usual and he suddenly feels like he could down a gallon of water. ]
I-I don't think there's an exit wound. Bullet's gotta be in there still.
[She checks the safety and stores it in her waistband, then checks the doors, locking whatever she can find. There's a sort of buzz in the back of her head.
Soon enough he's on the bed, and she clamps her hands over his arm again.]
Yeah. I'm not fuckin' fishing for it though. Your people can when they get here.
[She clears her throat roughly.]
Keep talking. Or call me an asshole for makin' it hurt, whatever. Ever been hurt like this before?
Good 'cause I don't remember askin' you to fish for it.
[ Jesse snaps back, but then sucks in a breath, grunting as El presses onto his arm again. He's not trying to be an asshole, but his patience is so thin right now it's translucent. Pain does that to a person--wears them down. ]
Not--not like this. Never been shot. Guess there's a first time for everything, right? I been fucked up before, though. Landed in the hospital a couple times. But it was always beatdowns not...not shootings.
[ Jesse lets out a hoarse laugh as a memory pops into his head. ]
Promise you won't make fun of me, but I ended up in the hospital once after this dude beat me into the ground with a bag full of money. It was scratch that he owed me, too.
[ It feels like lifetimes ago, the whole Tuco situation. He thinks about how much he's changed since then--how he might have handled that scenario now as opposed to when he was still a greenhorn. ]
Fucked up, right? He's dead now, though, so fuck him. You ever been shot at before?
[ It's not a question he'd ask just anyone because obviously it takes a certain type, but given that her uncle's in the trade, it's not such an outlandish query. ]
[It's not the first or last time, and not that insulting. There's a sting, sure, but not enough of one to make her snap back.
She snorts - not because it's funny, exactly, just that black irony she's familiar with.]
Real fucked. [She swallows hard.] Never at, but I've had a gun held to me a few times. But I usually knew who was behind the trigger.
[Her uncle twice. Her mom once. Their neighbor after El beat the shit out of her looking for something to give her uncle for the heroin he'd gotten her hooked on and then demanded she pay him back for. A few dealings gone bad. Not unusual for her or her family overall, but when she’d run off her new friends had given her such looks for telling stories like that that she'd learned to stop giving context.]
...did you... [She cuts herself off, abruptly deciding she does not and should not know if Jesse was the one who killed the other.] What happened the other time?
[ Jesse nods his head to El's response. One of the first times he had a gun drawn on him was by Krazy-8 and Emilio--people he both worked with and knew since elementary school. But neither of them had actually reached the point of firing the weapons--not at him anyway, only through the RV door hoping to get some fresh air flowing once Mr. White had created the phosphine gas. At him, the weapons had only been vaguely brandished. ]
Sorry. That's fucked up, huh? People you thought were, like, in your corner? Been there. I dunno how they do it. Turning on people they're s'posed to care about.
[ But are they? Supposed to care? Maybe Jesse's just a softie. Maybe he cares too much about other people's feelings. Seems like that's a trait that doesn't quite fit with his profession. ]
The other time? Well...so happens it was a DEA agent. Decided he'd take the law into his own hands and beat me senseless in my own house, unprovoked. Nearly lost his job over it. Got suspended, the whole nine. But he got shot up after that, too. So I guess he got his karma.
[ Jesse shrugs the whole thing off. That was a total shit-show, yeah, but it's in the past far enough that even the memories have fuzzy edges. Gale, though. That's a different story, and before he realizes quite what he's doing, he pipes up again. Maybe it's the delerium or the whole trying to stay awake thing. Either way, he shocks himself with how easily the information slips free. ]
Shot somebody once, though. Had to. He was gonna be a replacement for my partner. They were gearin' up to kill him so I had to take out the other guy. Wasn't easy, though. Still felt like he didn't deserve it. None of it was his fault, y'know? He was a good guy. Just...caught up in the wrong situation.
Weren't that much of a surprise, not in my family. [Mom and Dad flirted by trying to kill each other over dinner, and it wasn't like all of the adults weren't perfectly happy to beat any of the three kids for...whatever. El realizes her slip up and tries not to wince.
Then, well--what Jesse says blows that out of the water. For a moment she thinks, is he really that stupid? But then she looks up and registers how fucking pale he is, how glassy his eyes look, and - Jesus Christ, is that what this is?]
Don't use me as a damn confessional, Jesse! Piss and moan about murdering someone later!
[It's an awful thing to say, and truth is she's trying to piss him off enough that his hair raises, that he's too busy being angry at her to pass out. She doesn't actually want to think about the implications of what he's said, she just doesn't want him to die.
[ Jesse repeats, fire building in his veins. He struggles to push himself upright, but only manages to do so partway, on his good side so he's more leaning to one side than laying flat. He glares right back at El, icy blue eyes burning bright. ]
That what you think this is? Some deathbed plea for forgiveness? 'Cuz fuck. That. For real, yo. I did what I had to do to keep my partner alive. To keep me alive. I ain't askin' for sympathy from anybody. It's just what happens when you're in this line of work.
[ Jesse's tone is a lot harsher than it's ever been with El and, yeah, she's gone and pissed him off but maybe it gives him that last kick of adrenaline he needs to stay conscious until the guy Saul sent arrives. There's a marked knock at the door, and, after Jesse encourages El to check it out, she'll find there's a short, clean-cut-looking guy standing at the front door. He's hauling a big, rolling suitcase behind him, a pair of round-rimmed glasses parked low on his nose. He asks for directions to the patient and follows what he's given, pushing the door open and eyeing Jesse with what might be suspicion. He isn't what his usual patients look like, anyway, but he's been paid and he's not about to ruin his reputation, so he gets to work. ]
Everything off on your upper half. I'll need some clean towels. I have the rest of the necessary equipment.
[ The man directs most of the speech towards El, though he's looking Jesse over while he speaks, standing next to the side of the bed. Jesse lifts his good arm to gesture. ]
There's some towels in the bathroom to the left once you leave the room.
[ Jesse grits his teeth as the doctor (?) starts to unravel the makeshift tourniquet and then helps him take his upper layers off. He's bare-chested by the time El returns with the towels, which the doctor puts beneath Jesse's arm, with a sterile paper on top. A dragon tattoo snakes along the left side of his chest. The 'doctor' pulls out some sterile tools as well, having already scrubbed his hands on the way inside. He's trying to keep as sterile a field as possible but, well, this is Jesse's house, after all, and it's just been run through by a hoard of addicts and miscreants. Nothing's truly clean at the moment.
Jesse looks to El, more to shift the attention off his arm than anything else, though he briefly considers asking for her hand. Mainly so he doesn't have to grab onto the blankets beneath him, but that's what he ends up doing as the doctor turns on a bright headlamp and starts picking pieces of metal and fabric out of Jesse's leaking wound.
It hurts. It hurts even more than Jesse expected it to, his face instantly going white, breaths hitching in his chest. ]
[There's a dark sort of satisfaction in her eyes when he snarls at her, but their man arrives and starts barking orders, so there isn't much time to get into it. Maybe it's for the best, because she's good at prolonging fights, egging people on. She gets a stack of clean towels and a mouthful of tequila someone left behind to keep her going - if she can't lay back for the dizziness, well, she'll still be on her feet.
His skin is interesting. That's probably a weird thought, but she has a moment where she wants to run her fingers along his tattoo, just to see if it has texture. But the doctor's bending over Jesse already, and the look on his face as the man starts working...
El kneels onto the floor and puts her hand, palm up, near Jesse's fisted hand.]
Hey. Um--you know I grew up in the middle'a nowhere - you can probably tell by my accent. Most experience I had with anything outside of my little bubble was when my dad would take me around to different towns or cities in the nearby states. So when I first got to California, it was like this whole other world. Never rode a bus in my life, I'd jump every time a car honked, and I was just this - kid, you know? Seventeen, hooked on, you know, having the worst time coming off of it. But then I managed to get to a beach. This was the north side, so, pretty chilly - but the way the waves crashed into the water - nothing like Alabama, the ocean's all...quiet until it ain't, you know? But the Pacific's always powerful. If I had to go through withdrawal homeless, that was the place to do it.
[She hadn't died, at least. At any rate, she's trying to ramble and distract Jesse, though every now and then she glances over at what the doctor's doing, wanting to ask questions, but not quite daring to. If he's getting annoyed at her for talking too much, well, it's not focusing on the pain either, is it?]
[ Jesse tries to focus on what El's saying, and he does pick up bits and pieces here and there, but at points his hearing goes fuzzy, a ringing in his ears as he struggles to stay conscious. If he hadn't lost so much damn blood, he'd just let himself give in to sleep. But he's a little scared that he might not wake up if he allows himself to drift off. So he tries to talk, focusing on the conversation as best as he can. ]
Cali, huh? Well how'd you end up in Albuquerque? Get sick of the beach?
[ He winces at the burning pain in his arm, which crescendos occasionally as the guy fishes around his bullet wound for debris. Jesse hisses and then cries out suddenly, grabbing El's hand instead of the blanket. The doctor chides Jesse for moving around too much and Jesse glares at him. If looks could kill, the guy would have dropped dead right then and there. The doctor informs El that he can see the bullet fragments and has to get them out before he can clean and flush the wound and stitch him up.
He yells hoarsely, trying not to squirm as the bullet fragments are retrieved, finally, and the doctor goes about starting an IV so he can give him blood before he cleans the wound and starts repairing the damage. He comments that he's lucky his upper arm wasn't shattered in the process, but this whole thing feels like anything but luck. ]
Jesus, fuck!
[ Jesse curses hoarsely, but the worst of it is over relatively quickly even if he's left pale and panting, tears threatening to overflow in his shockingly vivid blue eyes. ]
My uncle. [The words are terse - she doesn't elaborate, but the set of her jaw hints at anger, the widening of her eyes fear - but who would see that in so much pain? The look on his face disturbs her as he glares at the doctorshe looks away, before he can stare at her like that.
She keeps talking, squeezing back. It's all stupid stuff, anecdotes about California. As Jesse gasps and shivers, the doc turns to her.]
Can you babysit for the next couple of days?
[El hesitates. If she's not back soon enough there's going to be a reckoning from her uncle, assuming he doesn't go looking for her. As the doctor's face shifts, however, she nods. She'll figure it out.]
Then go get a glass of water.
[She gives Jesse's hand a last squeeze and goes to follow directions. While she's gone, the doctor pulls out two bottles.]
For pain and infection. Instructions are on the bottles. Where do you want them so your little friend doesn't down them all?
[ Jesse asks, conversing through the pain though he's not absorbing much of the conversation. He probably won't remember most of what they were talking about once he gets his head together and is better able to focus. For now, not dying is taking precedence over everything else. He'll remember her being there for him, though, and the feel of her hand in his as he clamps down on it to get through the worst parts. The truth is, nobody's ever really stuck by him when the shit hit the fan. People want to reap the benefits of the things he's been through, but when shit gets dark and messy and painful, he's largely been on his own.
He looks at the doctor, who cleans him up and then holds out the medication. ]
I'll just hang onto 'em. Thanks. You remember your way out or..?
[ Jesse'll probably end up flushing the painkillers. He hasn't touched opiates since Jane died. Not even when doctors at the hospital tried to push them at him repeatedly. He knows better than to refuse to take the bottle, but its his business what he does with them once the doctor leaves. He shoves the painkillers into his pants pocket and then opens the antibiotics, taking a pill out and waiting for El to get back with the water.
In the meantime, the doctor cleans up his supplies, explaining to Jesse how to remove the IV once the blood bag is empty. ]
...yeah. [There's a lot more to the story, mostly so horrible it sounds like a bad joke to her, a nightmare she still hasn't woken up from.
She gets back as the doctor leaves - he doesn't give her a second glance, just walks away. She sets her jaw but walks on, holding out the bottle to Jesse, though she has to brace one arm on the wall.]
Here. Anything I can do right now? [She forgot how good it feels to be useful.]
[ Jesse knows there's got to be more to the story, but he's in no state of mind to go fishing for information right now, and he's pretty sure she'd tell him more if she felt like talking about it, so he pushes aside his curiosity, watching as the doctor bandages him up and then packs his things. He leaves some spare gauze and supplies with instructions to change the bandage daily. Then he's gone. Jesse didnt even get the guy's name. But that's usually how things go with the people that Saul sends. They're all strictly business.
Jesse doesn't really even get the chance to thank the guy properly, but it doesn't really matter because El kept him alive til the guy got there. He's going to have to make it up to her somehow, even if he knows she'll probably protest at least a little. Free tacos doesn't seem like a big enough thank you.
Jesse's looking a lot better now. He's still in pain, but he's not sweating anymore and the color's returning to his face. He grimaced as he pushes himself up a little so he's more reclining than laying flat. ]
I dunno...keep me company? I mean, I know you probably have stuff to do but, like, I don't think you should leave tonight. Especially with us not knowing which one of us those fuckers were after yet.
[ He sets the pills down on the side table next to the water. ]
What 'bout you...there, uh...there anything you need? I owe you.
[There's visible hesitation in El as Jesse tells her to stay the night.] Ain't that I don't want to... just gonna have to answer questions I don't want to.
[She's afraid of lying down, though, or closing her eyes, so she sits by the bed and blinks slowly. Now that the scramble is over she's really feeling the shot--the drink. Hah.]
A new hoodie. [It's a joke. She shrugs and puts her arms on the bed.] I don't know. I was just there.
If it's gonna get you in trouble, then maybe you can just, uh, come back later? Check in on me or somethin'?
[ Even though the doctor left explicit instructions that he shouldn't be left alone, well, he doesn't want to be the reason that El has to deal with bullshit once she goes home if he can avoid it. He doesn't want her getting hurt if she leaves, either, but it's not like he's holding her hostage. Whatever she does, he wants to make sure that it's what she wants--her choice. That matters to him.
Jesse laughs when El says a new hoodie and he nods, even though it's a joke. ]
Yeah I don't think the blood's gettin' outta that one any time soon. You can have one of mine if you want. Got a whole closet full.
[ He notes the slur in her words, but doesn't ask about it. They've both just been through a whole lot. He reaches with his good arm to grab the glass of water, swallowing down a few sips before he checks the blood level in the bag that's still draining into his arm. It's still half-full, so he's stuck in bed for a while longer. ]
Yeah, that's my point. You were there. You didn't bolt on me. You could've just run or got outta the car or froze up. Pretty sure I woulda bled out if it wasn't for you.
...I'll figure it out later. [A sudden wave of rage at her uncle sweeps through her - she'd had an apartment and a job and a life and now she was scared of staying out too long. It's like she's twelve all over again, trying to figure out the steps to a dance she's set up to lose.
She looks down at herself for a long moment, hesitating. There's smears and drops of blood on the rest of her outfit. The pastel skirt she slapped over her jeans to provide - some kind of femininity has a smear across it. Her shirt survived, but it's thin and she knows it's a man's cut and she doesn't want to think about the way her shoulders look in it. The tie-dye hoodie was silly, but Nick hadn't taken it from her. All said...she doesn't know if she actually wants one of Jesse's.]
Only if it's pretty enough. [She smiles, but really, it isn't a big deal to her - especially if she's the one who landed Jesse in trouble.
She looks up at him from under her hair, a little embarrassed by what he's saying.]
I...I can keep my head under pressure. Tha's all. [Her head is starting to spin a little, but every blink sends her spinning, so she forces herself to keep watching Jesse. She thinks about what she said about Jesse when he confessed. She's such an ass...] Sorry.
[ Jesse nods at El's answer and leaves it at that. She knows best how to deal with things with her uncle. Jesse doesn't know the guy. Not personally, anyway. He only 'knows' him vicariously through what El's told him and by building a mental image based on his experiences with other people like him, involved in the trade.
It doesn't paint a good picture, but El seems like she can handle herself pretty well. He doesn't want her thinking he sees her as weak or anything, even if he's not sure she'd ask for his help even if she actually needed it. She doesn't seem like the type, but Jesse's usually pretty good at reading people so he lets it go for now. He cringes a little at the sight of his own blood spattering El's clothing. He's not sure if it's worse that he ruined her clothes or that it's his blood that ruined them. ]
Peroxide's sometimes good at, uh, gettin' out blood stains. Peroxide and cold water. Warm'll make it set in. I mean, the hoodie's done for but you might be able to salvage the rest...
[ He gestures to her other clothing. ]
Can't say I have any real pretty hoodies. I mean, I have some sparkly shit but. Pretty sure it'll all be pretty big on you. It's all pretty big on me.
[ He thinks for a minute, wrinkling up his nose. Yeah, that's probably not gonna cut it. ]
I can toss you some cash, though. Then you can buy whatever clothes you want.
[ Jesse pauses when El apologizes suddenly and he furrows his brows, shifting on the bed so he can turn towards her a little more, where she's sitting off to the side. It doesn't even occur to him what she's apologizing for. He's already forgotten what she said to him. Mainly because of the pain but also, sadly, he's kind of used to having fucked up shit said to him. Even worse than what she'd said, usually. Mr. White has a habit of reminding Jesse of what a worthless junkie idiot he is whenever things don't go as planned. Jesse's grown kind of used to it. ]
[Oh, she's definitely drunk now. Ellie listens to Jesse ramble, a little delayed, but she twitches up to stare at him when he says he can toss her some cash.
It's insulting, in some deep-set way that stretches back to the mountains that birthed her. Money for a little blood? What, is she some kind of mercenary, so cruel she'd wring coin from an injured man for a stained hoodie? What's more upsetting is that she wants to agree, just so she has more dope money. How much can she claim the gas station tie-dye was worth? Is it enough to buy an ounce? A gram? Is it enough to make the rest of her life go away for a few hours? Forever? She can feel the rage growing in her stomach.]
Are you stupid? [She slurs, instead of answering that other question, or telling him yes so she can resume her cycles.] To a junkie?! All I'm gonna do is buy dope with it! Better light it on fire, you'll get more out of it!
[Her voice deepens as she shouts, frays, and she sits back with a hard thump of her palms against her forehead. If Jesse clocks her off her voice... God. This is how she ruined every one of her relationships and this is how she'll keep ruining them. All because he was trying to be nice.]
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zvi
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Date: 2023-03-10 09:21 pm (UTC)When she's not crying from a lack of food or sleep for days on end, El's - odd. Prone to strange and awkward silences. Enough alcohol in her and that gives way to a bright charisma. Otherwise - impulsive. Sarcastic. Self aware enough to try to stagger shooting up, but there's already a pattern forming, whenever she gets back to the party. It probably says a lot that Jesse's party is safer to shoot up in, than the apartment she's staying at with her uncle.
They aren't exactly friends, but they aren't anything else, and she likes getting tacos with him. They're on the way now, though El's coming down from a high, still relaxed and sluggish. Not really hungry, but the tacos are nice anyway.]
So you got this...party, all the time, but you don't get high, or drink? When I was sober I couldn't even smell booze without craving... [El gestures as she talks in the passenger seat of Jesse's car, leaning her head against the window. It's a nice day, bright and sunny--
The window shatters under her head. El flinches back, old instinct driving her to silence, not screaming, as the glass crumbles - she's stuck processing that for a moment as two other sharp pops sound.]
Is that for you, or me? [--which is about the least fucking helpful thing she could be doing, she realizes, and puts her head down before it gets blown off.]
no subject
Date: 2023-03-11 12:27 am (UTC)Maybe a bullet or two'll change his mind, though. Jesse's wrenched from his thoughts at the sight of his passenger side window exploding in a hail of broken glass and he haphazardly throws his bag of tacos into the backseat, slamming his gear-shift into reverse before he even thinks about what he's doing. He pulls open the glovebox, pulling a gun out from within when there are two sharp pop sounds, one right after the other. He feels the breeze as the first bullet whizzes by his head, causing him to bring an arm up instinctively. The second sound comes and there's a sharp burning in his upper arm but he's focusing on getting them the hell out of there over anything else.
Tires squeal, smoke rising from the burning rubber as he peels out of the parking lot backward and shifts into drive, taking off down the street. His arm feels warm. Too warm. The sleeve of his sweatshirt is growing dark and heavy with his blood as his icy blue eyes flick up to the rearview mirror. He's trying to shake the tail following him like Mike taught him and he just barely manages by running a red light, taking some misleading turns, and then turning his headlights off for a couple of streets. He manages to pull into his garage, finally, his head spinning. He cuts the engine and leans back against the seat, panting. ]
I think I lost 'em.
[ The fact that he's been shot hasn't quite registered yet, though he's feeling dizzier by the minute, eyes lolling over towards El lazily, who he'd all but shoved into the footwell of the front seat to keep her out of harm's way. He reaches up with his good arm to press a button closing the garage door and keeping them out of sight.
Jesse grimaces as the pain starts to set in, the adrenaline rush waning. He reaches across his body to grip his upper arm, the wet fabric of his hoodie squelching beneath his fingers as he tries to slow the bleeding. ]
I'm hit, yo...
Whoops, hit reply on the wrong thing
Date: 2023-03-11 07:46 pm (UTC)She goes still and quiet, twisting around to watch Jesse, her knees up, huddled in a small ball. The heroin makes this less of her problem - it always has, whether it was living with her parents or her uncle or on the road.
But the blood dripping down Jesse's arm is going to be their problem, whether she likes it or not. She shoves herself out of the footwell and plants her hands over Jesse's, pressing hard - enough to make him shout if he isn't ready, but she remembers how hard you need to press to stem the bleeding. It's not pleasant.]
Sorry. What do we-- [Her voice frays, and she has to try again.] Jesse, what do we do? C'mon--hospital? Ambulance? [But if they go back out they risk getting shot up, and calling in an ambulance for a gunshot will bring the cops, not what any of them need.] Do I call anyone?
[There's two main possibilities she sees: someone's going after Jesse, or someone's going after her. She's not sure what his deal is, but to do what he does and live like he does, it's nothing legal or safe. For her end, her uncle's stepping on toes peddling heroin around here, and while he can't use her to sell, they've been seen together. It wouldn't be impossible for them to go after her.
(The third she doesn't know about, of course, is Walter White - whether this is some scheme of his or revenge taken against him via Jesse.)]
I didn't recognize that car, did you?
lol happens to the best of us. tbf it is kind of confusing on this layout
Date: 2023-03-11 07:57 pm (UTC)Tell everyone inside the party's over. Tell 'em cops are comin' or somethin. Then take my cellphone and call Saul Goodman. He'll know who to send.
[ Jesse rifles through his pocket with the hand of his good arm, shakily holding out a cheap flip-phone. ]
His number's in my contacts.
[ Jesse grits his teeth, jaw muscles twitching as he does so. He hisses as he sucks in a breath, trying to hold it together as the burning and throbbing in his arm intensify, his fingertips starting to go numb and tingly. ]
I didn't recognize the car, but anybody smart would use a rental or cheap junker for that sorta thing, not their personal vehicle. S'gotta be somebody on my boss' team. That or cartel. I dunno. Pretty sure the cartel's the only one with balls enough to fuck with my boss. He's kind of a big deal around the Southwest.
it's at least an easy fix!
Date: 2023-03-11 09:31 pm (UTC)Might be my fault. [Her tone's flat.] My uncle's slinging H. God knows he's stepping on toes here, and I've been--with him before. Not hard to find me.
[That's probably the most detail she's ever given about her situation. She's tight-lipped about whatever's happened to her. She presses Jesse's hand over the sweater she's knotted and takes the cell, giving him a last look before she gets out of the garage and rushes inside.
It's like setting off a gun in a room full of cats - and the blood on her doesn't hurt. Everyone scatters, and the house is empty in under two minutes. El dials.
It's not the weirdest conversation she's had in her life, but it's up there. The man's smarmy, and it takes arguing and having to shout that they got shot at and can't fucking leave the house without risk of attracting attention, but finally she gets a promise that someone'll be there within a half hour.]
Chin up, keep the kid alive and you'll be fine.
[Click. El kicks away the worst of the detritus and goes back to get Jesse, half afraid he's already dead. She can't carry him on her own, either.]
v true
Date: 2023-03-11 09:52 pm (UTC)[ Jesse rambles on, his voice growing thin and raspy, words more slurred than spoken as he fights to keep his eyes open. He knows he can't sleep. Sleeping means there's a good chance he won't wake up again. He shifts in his seat, pressing his feet down into the footwell to adjust himself so he's sitting up a little straighter. He groans as El wraps her sweatshirt around his arm. It's tight, but not crushing. He might end up needing something sturdier, though, if the bleeding doesn't slow enough.
Jesse tries to stay awake as El disappears inside of the house. It's a few seconds before he hears scrambling footsteps, doors opening, soft thudding as people leave the house and run across the lawn. He contemplates what El told him--about how her uncle sells heroin. He had no idea, but it says something that she trusts him with that kind of information. He clings to that thought as he waits for her to return, clamping his hand down harder on top of the makeshift tourniquet. He wants to live, but not just for himself. He wants to live as much as he doesn't want her to find his body. She doesn't need that--not with everything he can imagine she's already been through what with her uncle's choice of employment. ]
What'd he say?
[ Jesse asks about Saul, wanting to know how long he has to try to keep it together. He shoulders the car door open and gets out with El's help, trying to keep his footing because he's pretty sure she can't pick him up off the garage floor even though he's relatively scrawny. ]
How long?
[ Jesse whimpers, trying to bite back the sound as his arm is jostled with his clumsy steps, leaving a trail of blood droplets spattered on the concrete floor as he walks towards the interior door leading into the kitchen and dining room. He's still bleeding, but it's a lot slower than it had been on the drive to his house. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-03-12 12:16 am (UTC)[El hoists his good arm over her shoulder to keep him walking, murmuring an apology to the grunt of pain while she wraps her other arm around his waist. She's a touch taller than him, ever quite realized before, given they both tend to slump around.
At most, half an hour. Hopefully less. You want the couch or the bed?
[Couch is dirtier but closer, bed is somewhere upstairs. She's never been up there, but can see the way.]
Just keep talking. You're bad with your boss, but someone could take you out to get back at him. Cartel. You want me to be ready to shoot if anyone tries to come in without knocking?
[It's a hell of a thing to say to the sort-of friend who gives her free tacos, but Jesse's the nicest person she's interacted with in months and he just saved her life, and she's operating on old lessons. Lines drawn in the sand and loyalty. What being shot at means. She doesn't think she could kill her uncle (even if she fantasizes about it), but anyone else...
Not the first time she's disposed of a body either, if it comes to it. She feels, for a moment, a little disconnected from herself, the stretch of adrenaline mixed with the drugs mixed with the edge of memories she desperately doesn't want to remember. But then she takes another step with Jesse and it feels okay as long as she has someone to keep alive.]
no subject
Date: 2023-03-12 02:26 am (UTC)[ Jesse looks back over his shoulder, gesturing with his head in the direction of the car. Probably a good idea to bring his piece inside anyway. He's not exactly thinking entirely clearly right now, what with the life slowly leaking out of his arm, growing weaker by the minute. Saul had better consider this matter urgent and not some overreaction on El's part, though the fact that Jesse hadn't picked up the phone and called himself probably tipped Saul off as to the seriousness of the matter. ]
Just lock the door. Keep the piece on you. You'll know if you need to use it.
[ Jesse isn't normally someone to trust anyone else with his gun. Not just because guns are dangerous, but because he knows the consequences that come from using one. He knows that having to pull the trigger is something that can haunt you for the rest of your life. He doesn't want that for El, but he's pretty certain he can't hold a gun steady enough to be a good shot with his arm all fucked up like it is and, if push comes to shove, being traumatized is better than being dead.
Jesse leans heavily against the doorframe, trying not to slump to the floor as El leaves him briefly to retrieve the weapon. He stumbles inside, wondering if he'll even be able to make it up the steps to his room. Probably not, and he doesn't want to risk taking a fall down the staircase. ]
There's a guest room through there...
[ Jesse points to a doorway across the living room that leads towards the area of the house where the kitchen and dining room are. There's a guestroom and guest bathroom before the kitchen. It's probably cleaner than his bedroom, having been closed off during the parties that he threw. It's a good thing this house has got some spare rooms.
He finally makes it to the bed, blood already starting to stain the blanket that he collapses on, but he can't bring himself to care about that. Not when he's just trying to stay alive until help comes. He's starting to sweat, beads of moisture forming on his forehead and temples in spite of shivery spasms that seem to suggest he's cold. His face is pale, more than usual and he suddenly feels like he could down a gallon of water. ]
I-I don't think there's an exit wound. Bullet's gotta be in there still.
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Date: 2023-03-12 03:06 am (UTC)Soon enough he's on the bed, and she clamps her hands over his arm again.]
Yeah. I'm not fuckin' fishing for it though. Your people can when they get here.
[She clears her throat roughly.]
Keep talking. Or call me an asshole for makin' it hurt, whatever. Ever been hurt like this before?
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Date: 2023-03-12 03:31 am (UTC)[ Jesse snaps back, but then sucks in a breath, grunting as El presses onto his arm again. He's not trying to be an asshole, but his patience is so thin right now it's translucent. Pain does that to a person--wears them down. ]
Not--not like this. Never been shot. Guess there's a first time for everything, right? I been fucked up before, though. Landed in the hospital a couple times. But it was always beatdowns not...not shootings.
[ Jesse lets out a hoarse laugh as a memory pops into his head. ]
Promise you won't make fun of me, but I ended up in the hospital once after this dude beat me into the ground with a bag full of money. It was scratch that he owed me, too.
[ It feels like lifetimes ago, the whole Tuco situation. He thinks about how much he's changed since then--how he might have handled that scenario now as opposed to when he was still a greenhorn. ]
Fucked up, right? He's dead now, though, so fuck him. You ever been shot at before?
[ It's not a question he'd ask just anyone because obviously it takes a certain type, but given that her uncle's in the trade, it's not such an outlandish query. ]
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Date: 2023-03-12 03:53 am (UTC)She snorts - not because it's funny, exactly, just that black irony she's familiar with.]
Real fucked. [She swallows hard.] Never at, but I've had a gun held to me a few times. But I usually knew who was behind the trigger.
[Her uncle twice. Her mom once. Their neighbor after El beat the shit out of her looking for something to give her uncle for the heroin he'd gotten her hooked on and then demanded she pay him back for. A few dealings gone bad. Not unusual for her or her family overall, but when she’d run off her new friends had given her such looks for telling stories like that that she'd learned to stop giving context.]
...did you... [She cuts herself off, abruptly deciding she does not and should not know if Jesse was the one who killed the other.] What happened the other time?
no subject
Date: 2023-03-12 06:24 am (UTC)Sorry. That's fucked up, huh? People you thought were, like, in your corner? Been there. I dunno how they do it. Turning on people they're s'posed to care about.
[ But are they? Supposed to care? Maybe Jesse's just a softie. Maybe he cares too much about other people's feelings. Seems like that's a trait that doesn't quite fit with his profession. ]
The other time? Well...so happens it was a DEA agent. Decided he'd take the law into his own hands and beat me senseless in my own house, unprovoked. Nearly lost his job over it. Got suspended, the whole nine. But he got shot up after that, too. So I guess he got his karma.
[ Jesse shrugs the whole thing off. That was a total shit-show, yeah, but it's in the past far enough that even the memories have fuzzy edges. Gale, though. That's a different story, and before he realizes quite what he's doing, he pipes up again. Maybe it's the delerium or the whole trying to stay awake thing. Either way, he shocks himself with how easily the information slips free. ]
Shot somebody once, though. Had to. He was gonna be a replacement for my partner. They were gearin' up to kill him so I had to take out the other guy. Wasn't easy, though. Still felt like he didn't deserve it. None of it was his fault, y'know? He was a good guy. Just...caught up in the wrong situation.
...let me know if this is too awful?
Date: 2023-03-12 07:28 am (UTC)Then, well--what Jesse says blows that out of the water. For a moment she thinks, is he really that stupid? But then she looks up and registers how fucking pale he is, how glassy his eyes look, and - Jesus Christ, is that what this is?]
Don't use me as a damn confessional, Jesse! Piss and moan about murdering someone later!
[It's an awful thing to say, and truth is she's trying to piss him off enough that his hair raises, that he's too busy being angry at her to pass out. She doesn't actually want to think about the implications of what he's said, she just doesn't want him to die.
not at all! :)
Date: 2023-03-12 08:06 am (UTC)[ Jesse repeats, fire building in his veins. He struggles to push himself upright, but only manages to do so partway, on his good side so he's more leaning to one side than laying flat. He glares right back at El, icy blue eyes burning bright. ]
That what you think this is? Some deathbed plea for forgiveness? 'Cuz fuck. That. For real, yo. I did what I had to do to keep my partner alive. To keep me alive. I ain't askin' for sympathy from anybody. It's just what happens when you're in this line of work.
[ Jesse's tone is a lot harsher than it's ever been with El and, yeah, she's gone and pissed him off but maybe it gives him that last kick of adrenaline he needs to stay conscious until the guy Saul sent arrives. There's a marked knock at the door, and, after Jesse encourages El to check it out, she'll find there's a short, clean-cut-looking guy standing at the front door. He's hauling a big, rolling suitcase behind him, a pair of round-rimmed glasses parked low on his nose. He asks for directions to the patient and follows what he's given, pushing the door open and eyeing Jesse with what might be suspicion. He isn't what his usual patients look like, anyway, but he's been paid and he's not about to ruin his reputation, so he gets to work. ]
Everything off on your upper half. I'll need some clean towels. I have the rest of the necessary equipment.
[ The man directs most of the speech towards El, though he's looking Jesse over while he speaks, standing next to the side of the bed. Jesse lifts his good arm to gesture. ]
There's some towels in the bathroom to the left once you leave the room.
[ Jesse grits his teeth as the doctor (?) starts to unravel the makeshift tourniquet and then helps him take his upper layers off. He's bare-chested by the time El returns with the towels, which the doctor puts beneath Jesse's arm, with a sterile paper on top. A dragon tattoo snakes along the left side of his chest. The 'doctor' pulls out some sterile tools as well, having already scrubbed his hands on the way inside. He's trying to keep as sterile a field as possible but, well, this is Jesse's house, after all, and it's just been run through by a hoard of addicts and miscreants. Nothing's truly clean at the moment.
Jesse looks to El, more to shift the attention off his arm than anything else, though he briefly considers asking for her hand. Mainly so he doesn't have to grab onto the blankets beneath him, but that's what he ends up doing as the doctor turns on a bright headlamp and starts picking pieces of metal and fabric out of Jesse's leaking wound.
It hurts. It hurts even more than Jesse expected it to, his face instantly going white, breaths hitching in his chest. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-03-12 09:39 am (UTC)His skin is interesting. That's probably a weird thought, but she has a moment where she wants to run her fingers along his tattoo, just to see if it has texture. But the doctor's bending over Jesse already, and the look on his face as the man starts working...
El kneels onto the floor and puts her hand, palm up, near Jesse's fisted hand.]
Hey. Um--you know I grew up in the middle'a nowhere - you can probably tell by my accent. Most experience I had with anything outside of my little bubble was when my dad would take me around to different towns or cities in the nearby states. So when I first got to California, it was like this whole other world. Never rode a bus in my life, I'd jump every time a car honked, and I was just this - kid, you know? Seventeen, hooked on, you know, having the worst time coming off of it. But then I managed to get to a beach. This was the north side, so, pretty chilly - but the way the waves crashed into the water - nothing like Alabama, the ocean's all...quiet until it ain't, you know? But the Pacific's always powerful. If I had to go through withdrawal homeless, that was the place to do it.
[She hadn't died, at least. At any rate, she's trying to ramble and distract Jesse, though every now and then she glances over at what the doctor's doing, wanting to ask questions, but not quite daring to. If he's getting annoyed at her for talking too much, well, it's not focusing on the pain either, is it?]
no subject
Date: 2023-03-15 04:58 am (UTC)Cali, huh? Well how'd you end up in Albuquerque? Get sick of the beach?
[ He winces at the burning pain in his arm, which crescendos occasionally as the guy fishes around his bullet wound for debris. Jesse hisses and then cries out suddenly, grabbing El's hand instead of the blanket. The doctor chides Jesse for moving around too much and Jesse glares at him. If looks could kill, the guy would have dropped dead right then and there. The doctor informs El that he can see the bullet fragments and has to get them out before he can clean and flush the wound and stitch him up.
He yells hoarsely, trying not to squirm as the bullet fragments are retrieved, finally, and the doctor goes about starting an IV so he can give him blood before he cleans the wound and starts repairing the damage. He comments that he's lucky his upper arm wasn't shattered in the process, but this whole thing feels like anything but luck. ]
Jesus, fuck!
[ Jesse curses hoarsely, but the worst of it is over relatively quickly even if he's left pale and panting, tears threatening to overflow in his shockingly vivid blue eyes. ]
Finished s5 and El Camino!! Omg Jesse:(
Date: 2023-03-15 04:38 pm (UTC)are terse - she doesn't elaborate, but the set of her jaw hints at anger, the widening of her eyes fear - but who would see that in so much pain? The look on his face disturbs her as he glares at the doctorshe looks away, before he can stare at her like that.
She keeps talking, squeezing back. It's all stupid stuff, anecdotes about California. As Jesse gasps and shivers, the doc turns to her.]
Can you babysit for the next couple of days?
[El hesitates. If she's not back soon enough there's going to be a reckoning from her uncle, assuming he doesn't go looking for her. As the doctor's face shifts, however, she nods. She'll figure it out.]
Then go get a glass of water.
[She gives Jesse's hand a last squeeze and goes to follow directions. While she's gone, the doctor pulls out two bottles.]
For pain and infection. Instructions are on the bottles. Where do you want them so your little friend doesn't down them all?
oof, yeah. i have a journal for a post-series jesse too.
Date: 2023-03-15 08:09 pm (UTC)[ Jesse asks, conversing through the pain though he's not absorbing much of the conversation. He probably won't remember most of what they were talking about once he gets his head together and is better able to focus. For now, not dying is taking precedence over everything else. He'll remember her being there for him, though, and the feel of her hand in his as he clamps down on it to get through the worst parts. The truth is, nobody's ever really stuck by him when the shit hit the fan. People want to reap the benefits of the things he's been through, but when shit gets dark and messy and painful, he's largely been on his own.
He looks at the doctor, who cleans him up and then holds out the medication. ]
I'll just hang onto 'em. Thanks. You remember your way out or..?
[ Jesse'll probably end up flushing the painkillers. He hasn't touched opiates since Jane died. Not even when doctors at the hospital tried to push them at him repeatedly. He knows better than to refuse to take the bottle, but its his business what he does with them once the doctor leaves. He shoves the painkillers into his pants pocket and then opens the antibiotics, taking a pill out and waiting for El to get back with the water.
In the meantime, the doctor cleans up his supplies, explaining to Jesse how to remove the IV once the blood bag is empty. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-03-16 05:12 am (UTC)She gets back as the doctor leaves - he doesn't give her a second glance, just walks away. She sets her jaw but walks on, holding out the bottle to Jesse, though she has to brace one arm on the wall.]
Here. Anything I can do right now? [She forgot how good it feels to be useful.]
no subject
Date: 2023-03-16 08:33 am (UTC)Jesse doesn't really even get the chance to thank the guy properly, but it doesn't really matter because El kept him alive til the guy got there. He's going to have to make it up to her somehow, even if he knows she'll probably protest at least a little. Free tacos doesn't seem like a big enough thank you.
Jesse's looking a lot better now. He's still in pain, but he's not sweating anymore and the color's returning to his face. He grimaced as he pushes himself up a little so he's more reclining than laying flat. ]
I dunno...keep me company? I mean, I know you probably have stuff to do but, like, I don't think you should leave tonight. Especially with us not knowing which one of us those fuckers were after yet.
[ He sets the pills down on the side table next to the water. ]
What 'bout you...there, uh...there anything you need? I owe you.
no subject
Date: 2023-03-16 03:37 pm (UTC)[She's afraid of lying down, though, or closing her eyes, so she sits by the bed and blinks slowly. Now that the scramble is over she's really feeling the shot--the drink. Hah.]
A new hoodie. [It's a joke. She shrugs and puts her arms on the bed.] I don't know. I was just there.
[Her words slur, just a little.]
no subject
Date: 2023-03-17 11:34 pm (UTC)[ Even though the doctor left explicit instructions that he shouldn't be left alone, well, he doesn't want to be the reason that El has to deal with bullshit once she goes home if he can avoid it. He doesn't want her getting hurt if she leaves, either, but it's not like he's holding her hostage. Whatever she does, he wants to make sure that it's what she wants--her choice. That matters to him.
Jesse laughs when El says a new hoodie and he nods, even though it's a joke. ]
Yeah I don't think the blood's gettin' outta that one any time soon. You can have one of mine if you want. Got a whole closet full.
[ He notes the slur in her words, but doesn't ask about it. They've both just been through a whole lot. He reaches with his good arm to grab the glass of water, swallowing down a few sips before he checks the blood level in the bag that's still draining into his arm. It's still half-full, so he's stuck in bed for a while longer. ]
Yeah, that's my point. You were there. You didn't bolt on me. You could've just run or got outta the car or froze up. Pretty sure I woulda bled out if it wasn't for you.
no subject
Date: 2023-03-18 12:57 am (UTC)She looks down at herself for a long moment, hesitating. There's smears and drops of blood on the rest of her outfit. The pastel skirt she slapped over her jeans to provide - some kind of femininity has a smear across it. Her shirt survived, but it's thin and she knows it's a man's cut and she doesn't want to think about the way her shoulders look in it. The tie-dye hoodie was silly, but Nick hadn't taken it from her. All said...she doesn't know if she actually wants one of Jesse's.]
Only if it's pretty enough. [She smiles, but really, it isn't a big deal to her - especially if she's the one who landed Jesse in trouble.
She looks up at him from under her hair, a little embarrassed by what he's saying.]
I...I can keep my head under pressure. Tha's all. [Her head is starting to spin a little, but every blink sends her spinning, so she forces herself to keep watching Jesse. She thinks about what she said about Jesse when he confessed. She's such an ass...] Sorry.
no subject
Date: 2023-03-20 05:19 am (UTC)It doesn't paint a good picture, but El seems like she can handle herself pretty well. He doesn't want her thinking he sees her as weak or anything, even if he's not sure she'd ask for his help even if she actually needed it. She doesn't seem like the type, but Jesse's usually pretty good at reading people so he lets it go for now. He cringes a little at the sight of his own blood spattering El's clothing. He's not sure if it's worse that he ruined her clothes or that it's his blood that ruined them. ]
Peroxide's sometimes good at, uh, gettin' out blood stains. Peroxide and cold water. Warm'll make it set in. I mean, the hoodie's done for but you might be able to salvage the rest...
[ He gestures to her other clothing. ]
Can't say I have any real pretty hoodies. I mean, I have some sparkly shit but. Pretty sure it'll all be pretty big on you. It's all pretty big on me.
[ He thinks for a minute, wrinkling up his nose. Yeah, that's probably not gonna cut it. ]
I can toss you some cash, though. Then you can buy whatever clothes you want.
[ Jesse pauses when El apologizes suddenly and he furrows his brows, shifting on the bed so he can turn towards her a little more, where she's sitting off to the side. It doesn't even occur to him what she's apologizing for. He's already forgotten what she said to him. Mainly because of the pain but also, sadly, he's kind of used to having fucked up shit said to him. Even worse than what she'd said, usually. Mr. White has a habit of reminding Jesse of what a worthless junkie idiot he is whenever things don't go as planned. Jesse's grown kind of used to it. ]
Sorry for what?
This one might be a little. Dramatic? Let me know if I should change
Date: 2023-03-20 06:23 am (UTC)It's insulting, in some deep-set way that stretches back to the mountains that birthed her. Money for a little blood? What, is she some kind of mercenary, so cruel she'd wring coin from an injured man for a stained hoodie? What's more upsetting is that she wants to agree, just so she has more dope money. How much can she claim the gas station tie-dye was worth? Is it enough to buy an ounce? A gram? Is it enough to make the rest of her life go away for a few hours? Forever? She can feel the rage growing in her stomach.]
Are you stupid? [She slurs, instead of answering that other question, or telling him yes so she can resume her cycles.] To a junkie?! All I'm gonna do is buy dope with it! Better light it on fire, you'll get more out of it!
[Her voice deepens as she shouts, frays, and she sits back with a hard thump of her palms against her forehead. If Jesse clocks her off her voice... God. This is how she ruined every one of her relationships and this is how she'll keep ruining them. All because he was trying to be nice.]
I'm all for drama!
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