Considering we're here on their terms, maybe givin' em what they want ain't such a bad thing. Look. I've only been here for days and it feels like forever, so I can only imagine two years. But...compared to an eternity? Which is, according to the Bible or whatever, how long we're supposed to be here? It's like a grain of sand out of a whole damn beach. Maybe it takes longer. Way. Longer.
[ Jesse's frustration is becoming more and more evident in the tone of his voice--in the way he starts spitting out his words, over-anunciating, gesturing more. But, then Kylo rolls up his sleeve and Jesse can see the scars--can see the letters carved into his skin, and it shuts him right up. At least momentarily, while he's letting the sight sink in and silently wondering if that'll happen to him, too.
He can relate, Kylo. Maybe he didn't pull the trigger, but he sure as Hell was an accessory. He sure as Hell put things into motion to get two guys killed, one of which he'd known since the third grade. He has blood on his hands, either way. But he lets the other guy talk. Get it all out, and he listens. And then something rubs him the wrong way. ]
So. Hold up. The guy, like, taught you stuff, helped you out? And--what, just 'cause he didn't give you the pat on the head you wanted, you offed him?
[ Easy, Jesse. You don't know the whole story, and maybe this situation isn't so far off from what you've been through. Jesse had a makeshift mentor of his own, back in Albuquerque, as fucked up as it all was. His old chemistry teacher, Mr. White? Recruited him to start cooking meth with him. It seemed to be for a good cause, at first. The guy was dying of cancer--wanted to make money quick enough to leave something behind for his family before he checked out. It made Jesse feel like his drug habits became some noble cause--like he was the Robin Hood of Meth, or something. But, kill Mr. White? Sure, he hated the guy sometimes, but he couldn't imagine actually getting rid of him for good. His voice is softer the next time he speaks; more understanding in his tone. ]
I dunno, man. I mean, I knew a guy kinda like that...Mr. White. My partner. He always acted like he had a stick up his ass. Nothing I ever did was good enough, as hard as I tried to follow directions...but I never considered killing him.
no subject
[ Jesse's frustration is becoming more and more evident in the tone of his voice--in the way he starts spitting out his words, over-anunciating, gesturing more. But, then Kylo rolls up his sleeve and Jesse can see the scars--can see the letters carved into his skin, and it shuts him right up. At least momentarily, while he's letting the sight sink in and silently wondering if that'll happen to him, too.
He can relate, Kylo. Maybe he didn't pull the trigger, but he sure as Hell was an accessory. He sure as Hell put things into motion to get two guys killed, one of which he'd known since the third grade. He has blood on his hands, either way. But he lets the other guy talk. Get it all out, and he listens. And then something rubs him the wrong way. ]
So. Hold up. The guy, like, taught you stuff, helped you out? And--what, just 'cause he didn't give you the pat on the head you wanted, you offed him?
[ Easy, Jesse. You don't know the whole story, and maybe this situation isn't so far off from what you've been through. Jesse had a makeshift mentor of his own, back in Albuquerque, as fucked up as it all was. His old chemistry teacher, Mr. White? Recruited him to start cooking meth with him. It seemed to be for a good cause, at first. The guy was dying of cancer--wanted to make money quick enough to leave something behind for his family before he checked out. It made Jesse feel like his drug habits became some noble cause--like he was the Robin Hood of Meth, or something. But, kill Mr. White? Sure, he hated the guy sometimes, but he couldn't imagine actually getting rid of him for good. His voice is softer the next time he speaks; more understanding in his tone. ]
I dunno, man. I mean, I knew a guy kinda like that...Mr. White. My partner. He always acted like he had a stick up his ass. Nothing I ever did was good enough, as hard as I tried to follow directions...but I never considered killing him.