We've got no place to go. Caught up in the rodeo.

[hostage]

WHO: Jesse Pinkman & Saul Goodman
WHERE: The Beach House in Cape Canaveral
WHEN: Day 4 of Seminar Week (immediately after this)
WHAT: Jesse and Saul drink their troubles away.
WARNINGS: ???

[Wasn't so long ago he was bringing Skye here for the first time. Jesse's still not sure if it's too soon or too late to be bringing Saul here now. This is a safe place, a hideout, somewhere to run - and one doesn't usually bring a traitor to a spot like this. Okay, they're friends now, but they were friends before and that never stopped them from turning on each other: Saul ripping Jesse's heart out, Jesse retaliating with attempted murder. Somewhere in all of that is a lesson that Jesse should share a little bit less of himself and keep his spaces sacred.

But then again, the end times are here and maybe all they've really got is each other.

It's a short walk from the hotel, and even as they're approaching the house, Elsa's magic keeps it from being anything particularly remarkable. If Saul were here by himself, he'd pass right by without even being able to recall the color of it. But the closer they get, the more it comes into focus. It's a beautiful house Jesse's been hiding.]

Here we are.

Comments

[5055034455]

Jesus.

[Saul's practically bug-eyed as he takes in the view, eyes darting from window to window. To window. To window.]

Who the hell've you been puttin' up here? A family of twelve?

[hostage]

Nah, come on. It ain't that big.

[Though it's pretty big. But Aunt Ginny's house was too big for him, also, once he was living in it all by himself.

Jesse leads the way up the stairs to the front door. No key to enter, just a security code and a print scanner. Not flawless security in a world where technopaths exist, but at least the average thief can't pick the lock. The door pops open and Jesse waves Saul inside.]

[5055034455]

It's big enough.

[Saul trails close behind, gaze still caught somewhere on the second — third? — floor. It isn't until he hears the door open that he looks down and peers inside, then takes one, two, three cautious steps forward.]

Do you, uh... want my shoes off, or...?

[hostage]

[A laugh escapes Jesse as he turns to throw an incredulous look over his shoulder.]

Don't get all weird. Mi casa su casa, man. If you wanna go barefoot, go barefoot. I don't give a shit.

[5055034455]

[That's embarrassing.]

I'm just sayin', if I had a place this nice? You bet your ass I wouldn't want anyone trailing God knows what onto my floors.

[And now that he feels like he has to take his shoes off, he does, stepping on the backs to lift his feet out rather than untying them.]

[hostage]

Two months ago, I was sleeping at the bottom of a hole with a bucket for a toilet. I ain't worried about what's on your shoes.

[But as long as Saul's doing it, Jesse kicks off his sneakers, too. More comfortable, anyway.]

Come on. Bar's upstairs. Wanna take the elevator?

[5055034455]

[Jesse has a point. It's a point that makes Saul uncomfortable, but then there's mention of an elevator and the only response he can muster is to give Jesse a look that clearly says fuck you for having an elevator in your goddamn house.

Which means yes, of course he wants to take it.]

Sure. Should I brace myself for strippers and-slash-or scantily clad ladies and gentlemen waiting to serve me drinks?

[hostage]

I mean, I could take my clothes off if you want. Otherwise I'm gonna have to make a couple calls.

[It looks like a closet door until he opens it. Yep, there's the elevator. He punches the button for the third floor.]

[5055034455]

That won't be necessary.

[Saul's making a face as he steps into the elevator, and the face remains, because:]

You call this an elevator? Where's the Muzak?

[hostage]

You're gonna have to sing it yourself. That's a house rule. Specific for you, nobody else.

[5055034455]

[Jesse knows Saul pretty well, so he shouldn't at all be surprised by the fact that Saul immediately starts humming "How Deep Is Your Love" by the Bee Gees.

He won't get through much of it before the doors ding open, but it's happening anyway.]

[hostage]

[Not remotely surprised. It sends him into a fit of giggles. He's out of there as soon as the doors open, though, and making a beeline for the bar.]

What're you having? Or should I let you mix the drinks? I dunno how to make a piña colada.

[5055034455]

[Jesse Pinkman should not be allowed to giggle like that.

Saul follows close behind, peering around until he hears the words I dunno how to make a piña colada. Then he just stops. And stares.]

Dude, seriously?

[What he wants to say, but doesn't, is: You can cook meth, but you can't make a piña colada?]

[hostage]

Oh, excuse me. I didn't know I was the only idiot in the world who doesn't know how to make a piña colada. So, so sorry.

[5055034455]

Not the only idiot. One of many.

[He breezes past Jesse as he says this, moving behind the bar and taking stock of inventory. He's almost tempted to make something more complicated, something that Saul can show off with — because nothing says impressive like knowledge of cocktail recipes, right? — but he remembers how Jesse reacted the last time they had piña coladas out on Saul's boat.

So piña coladas it is.]

Rest assured, you're in good company.

[hostage]

I'm rich as fuck, anyway. Never gotta make my own drinks again if I don't wanna.

[Pretending they aren't facing the high chance they'll be in a gulag next week. Jesse leans up against the bar to watch Saul work, chin resting on his palm.]

[5055034455]

True. You could hire me to do it.

[A joke, mostly.

Though he can't really pretend that the thought of bailing on the government that got him — and all of them — into this mess isn't tempting. He is, after all, a government employee. Technically. Sort of.]

And, hey — [Saul talks as he moves around the bar, gathering ingredients and gesturing with whatever he finds.] — that way, I wouldn't have to run around calling myself a consultant anymore. 'Cause you can't be a lawyer and a judge, you know. That's unethical. But a lawyer and a bartender? Sure, why not.

[hostage]

Why's it unethical? Ain't like you're judging your own trials.

[5055034455]

Conflict of interest.

[The voice he says that in isn't entirely his own — he's mimicking someone, but is quick to drop the act and focus most of his attention on mixing.]

Anyway, I'm trying to lay low. Taking up the lawyer thing again... it'd be risky. Too much promotion and being-in-the-public-eye required.

[hostage]

Okay, but like... That's like air for you, isn't it? That's like me giving up sex. I mean, seriously.

[5055034455]

Seriously, I can live without it. If I still had to come home reeking of cinnamon every day, that might be different. But I don't. So...

[hostage]

[Jesse is unsure. Very unsure. But he won't press.]

Okay, well, you're hired as my personal bartender.

[5055034455]

Great. It's a deal.

[But they didn't shake on it, so it isn't.

What Saul is shaking is Jesse's drink, which he then dumps into the biggest glass he can find.]

How's that to get you started?

[hostage]

It's ridiculous. You're ridiculous.

[He means that in the most loving way, reaching for the glass.]

I'm not drinking alone, am I?

[5055034455]

That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. And no, of course not.

[He gives Jesse a look like he's crazy for even asking.]

I can only make one ridiculous drink at a time. Maybe if I had four arms...

[He'll leave that thought there and work on his drink now, which he starts off with extra rum. Jesse's free to call him out on it if he wants to.]

[hostage]

[He will.]

Ummm, I think you got our drinks mixed up.

[5055034455]

[Completely innocently:] What?

[hostage]

I know you're not a real Jew. Don't be stingy.

[5055034455]

[Saul bursts out laughing.]

Wow. Can you even — with your power —

[He's fumbling over his words, which is when he realizes: Yes, Jesse can. Their powers have been weakened. Without argument, he adds another shot worth of rum into Jesse's glass.]

[hostage]

[Yes, good. Jesse gives him a big smile.]

That's more like it.

[He absolutely can and will get completely fucked up while he has the opportunity.]

[5055034455]

Just be careful, mm? Wouldn't want you to be hungover for whatever the hell's happening tomorrow.

[The Russians probably wouldn't like that, a thought that makes Saul roll his eyes and take a swig of rum straight from the bottle.]

[hostage]

Like it'll make any difference. I'm gonna feel like shit either way.

[Following that up with a good, long slurp of his drink.]

[5055034455]

[He could say that Jesse'll be in good company, or he could say that tomorrow might be better, but neither of those seem worth the oxygen.

So he doesn't say anything.

At least he has a glass to fidget with and sip from.]