[ What can he say? Everyone has their gifts. You catch more flies with honey. In this case, a honeyed voice that spills just as much malice as it does lightheartedness.
He sees the look in Saul's eyes. He knows Saul sees the gun. And they both know running or screaming or trying to call anyone wouldn't end well for Saul. Lalo is able to overpower people who can actually run and actually fight, neither of which is true of the world's second best laywer. Hell, with that pot belly and that sedentary job, Lalo would have Saul snapped clean in two the second Saul tried anything funny.
And Lalo knows it, looking pleased, like a cat that got the cream. To be fair, though he usually looks like that, when he isn't simmering with barely repressed sadism or rage. ]
Yeah, yeah, that's too right. [ He laughs like it's their own private joke. But again, it's not a nice laugh. Not for Saul, anyway. Maybe for Lalo it is a little bit. But it's not nice for a nice reason...] They say it runs in families, too. Intolerance to high sodium. [ Intentionally theatrical shake of his head. ] Tragic. Just tragic. Really, truly. I'm sorry to hear about it.
[ Does he believe Saul? Does he not? At the moment, it doesn't really matter. They can have a more involved discussion about everything Lalo wants to know -- and nothing Saul wants to know, assuming there is anything -- in a little bit, in a more private location.
Lalo keeps smiling that smile, eyes no longer dead, instead lit up by delight by Saul's obvious fear, even if he tries to keep it concealed. What a trooper.
Unlike most of the residents here, Lalo doesn't need to be forced or, let's be real, even told to torture anybody. Not if it suits his interests. And whether he'll have use for Saul here long-term remains to be seen, but for now, he can't see a downside to having someone he knows under his thumb.
He loosens his grip on Saul's shoulder and pats it a few times, still like he's consoling an old friend. But it's not intended to be a consoling gesture. It's intended to be a coercive one, made all the more violating by the fact that it's all happening in public and Saul can do absolutely nothing about it. ]
[ Lalo then looks both ways down the hallway, like he's thinking. He's finally taken his hands off Saul for the time being. Then he points first one way down the hall, then the other, like he's trying to decide where to go. ]
Which way's your cabin? Walk that way. After all... [ His eyes glitter again. ] Then we can talk more privately there. It'll be nice to catch up. What do you say? [ He knows where Saul lives in New Mexico, after all. So obviously, he should also know where Saul lives here. It makes perfect sense. Lalo logic! ] And no stalling. I know you. I know how you like to operate. [ Wink.]
Oh, yeah. You know, your wife -- [ He wolf whistles and and shakes his head approvingly. ] Damn! I know I've said it before, but you really lucked out with that one. Smart and beautiful. Still doesn't make sense to me, but hey, congrats.
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He sees the look in Saul's eyes. He knows Saul sees the gun. And they both know running or screaming or trying to call anyone wouldn't end well for Saul. Lalo is able to overpower people who can actually run and actually fight, neither of which is true of the world's
secondbest laywer. Hell, with that pot belly and that sedentary job, Lalo would have Saul snapped clean in two the second Saul tried anything funny.And Lalo knows it, looking pleased, like a cat that got the cream. To be fair, though he usually looks like that, when he isn't simmering with barely repressed sadism or rage. ]
Yeah, yeah, that's too right. [ He laughs like it's their own private joke. But again, it's not a nice laugh. Not for Saul, anyway. Maybe for Lalo it is a little bit. But it's not nice for a nice reason...] They say it runs in families, too. Intolerance to high sodium. [ Intentionally theatrical shake of his head. ] Tragic. Just tragic. Really, truly. I'm sorry to hear about it.
[ Does he believe Saul? Does he not? At the moment, it doesn't really matter. They can have a more involved discussion about everything Lalo wants to know -- and nothing Saul wants to know, assuming there is anything -- in a little bit, in a more private location.
Lalo keeps smiling that smile, eyes no longer dead, instead lit up by delight by Saul's obvious fear, even if he tries to keep it concealed. What a trooper.
Unlike most of the residents here, Lalo doesn't need to be forced or, let's be real, even told to torture anybody. Not if it suits his interests. And whether he'll have use for Saul here long-term remains to be seen, but for now, he can't see a downside to having someone he knows under his thumb.
He loosens his grip on Saul's shoulder and pats it a few times, still like he's consoling an old friend. But it's not intended to be a consoling gesture. It's intended to be a coercive one, made all the more violating by the fact that it's all happening in public and Saul can do absolutely nothing about it. ]
[ Lalo then looks both ways down the hallway, like he's thinking. He's finally taken his hands off Saul for the time being. Then he points first one way down the hall, then the other, like he's trying to decide where to go. ]
Which way's your cabin? Walk that way. After all... [ His eyes glitter again. ] Then we can talk more privately there. It'll be nice to catch up. What do you say? [ He knows where Saul lives in New Mexico, after all. So obviously, he should also know where Saul lives here. It makes perfect sense. Lalo logic! ] And no stalling. I know you. I know how you like to operate. [ Wink.]
Oh, yeah. You know, your wife -- [ He wolf whistles and and shakes his head approvingly. ] Damn! I know I've said it before, but you really lucked out with that one. Smart and beautiful. Still doesn't make sense to me, but hey, congrats.