someone just mainlined the series through s4.

[biotch]

So what, you and me, we shack up on your couch for a couple of weeks and all of a sudden you think you know my life? Like that suddenly makes us tight or something? [ Yeah, he's not having it. ]

Nah. Nah. Cause, y'see — I know guys who shit bigger turds than you. So here's what's gonna happen. I'm going home.

Here's what's not gonna happen. I'm not giving you a hug, I ain't gonna play, and I'm definitely not about to let you make me your Ken-and-Barbie fun-time bitch, yo.

We crystal?

Comments

[credential]

Most of this is figurative, yes?

[biotch]

—what? [ Random foreign....terrorist-looking...guy. You get a look. ] No, man, no. It's not like we actually shacked or anything.

[ A beat. ] But yeah, there was a couch.

[credential]

I meant your friends. [ your woman is your problem, far as he's concerned. ] And you are sleeping with your... do you have a word for her?

[biotch]

[ Jesse almost laughs at that. ] What — you mean the Medieval Times crazy cat lady who thinks my life is some Grand Theft Auto Dinner-and-Tournament shit?

[ There is not enough head shaking in the world. ] Like I said, no shacking. She just, I dunno. Falls asleep to my "dulcet tones" or whatever.

[credential]

Shouldn't you be insulted instead? She calls you a woman, in her own way.

[ dulcet tones doesn't sound very flattering, you see. ]

[biotch]

Hey, I ain't a woman and she knows it. [ Though she does constantly insist on wanting to give him a hug. ] We all who's boss around here, alright?

I got it— I got it all under control.

[credential]

How in control are you, if you're finding time to complain?

[ is this a thing with american men, to be wasting words all the time? ]

[biotch]

Whatever, man. Like you don't complain ever.

[credential]

I don't have your name, on the other hand, Mr. American.

[biotch]

[ Jesse rubs at his nose, a little twitchy, eyeing the guys I-blow-things-up-for-a-living facial hair. ]

Who's asking?

[sleuthtastic]

Ah, degenerate highschool drop-outs using misogynistic language. I can see you're a keeper.

[biotch]

Hey. Hey. I'm not a misogynistic— y'know. [ Technically, he is a high school drop out. ] I'm not a misogynist, yo.

I mean, Georgia O'Keefe totally, like. Painted vaginas and stuff. [ Would a misogynist know that??? ]

[credential]

My brothers call me Barsad.

[ the scruff keeps the cold out. what's yours for? ]

[sleuthtastic]

[ Veronica makes a little noise, and by little we really mean loud; she tips her hand into a 'thumbs down' motion, blowing a raspberry. ]

Doesn't cut the cheese, Eminem. You should be nicer to your lady friend before she turns you into a dudette.

[biotch]

[ It's a thug life thing, yo. ]

Like actual brothers or like, y'know, brotherhood brothers? [ He lifts a hand and flashes some made-up gang symbol half-assedly. ]

[biotch]

[ Hey, Eminem is a national treasure. ]

Dudette—? [ Now you have Jesse's attention. ] Listen, I didn't sign up for any of this shit, okay? I'm just living my life and suddenly this headcase wants to lock me in her attic to play house? No way, man.

[credential]

[ judgment. judgment on your nonexistent beard, on your nicely shaved head. ]

The latter. Hand signs are for juveniles.

[biotch]

[ Jesse doesn't protest, though he does shove his hand into his pocket somewhat guiltily. ]

So 'Barsad', huh? Does that, like, mean something profound in your little brotherhood cadre or whatever?

[sleuthtastic]

[ Moby trice, real name no gimmicks? ]

So you must have it pretty good, huh? Back where you're from. Being a highschool drop-out maybe misogynist.

[biotch]

[ Don't mock the life, Veronica Mars!!!! ]

Hey, unlike some people here, I gotta job to do, alright? Responsibilities. Can't just sit around judging other people's shit, worrying about my SATs or band camp or whatever.

[credential]

[ that is a gracious gesture. add a point to your favor. ]

It's a name to be called by. And yours? What of your name?

[sleuthtastic]

And after that, I'll go to pep squad and talk about how much pep I have.

[ NO U!!! ]

Do these responsibilities have anything to do with guys who, in a fantastic use of language that I am sure life role model Eminem would approve of — [ Airquote fingers. ] — "shit bigger turds"?

[biotch]

[ To be honest 'Barsad' is a pretty badass sounding name. Probably wouldn't fly in the ABQ, but it seems legit. Jesse shrugs. ]

It's Jesse. Jesse Pinkman. [ Used to be Cap'n Cook, but he keeps that to himself. ] Which means — y'know. "Pink. Man." [ He shrugs again. ]

You familiar with this character?

[soyoudonthaveto]

Hal's sidekick from Breaking Bad, right?
(aside to me)

Have you even watched that show yet?
(back at Jesse)

Look, Pinkman. Trust me, I've tried, I've REALLY tried. I mean, hell, I was literally one with the universe before this asshole tried "immortalizing me" and forced me into his head.

Either he reigns back control, or he threatens to send a homicidal AI/pacifistic medic combo or an interdimensional conqueror at me.

Long story short, we can't get away.

(whispers)
But if you find a way, PLEASE help me kick my mun's ass.

[biotch]

[ If that was sarcasm, he's totally ignoring it. ]

Yeah. Yeah, it does. And if I don't get back to do what needs to get done, these gargantuan turd-shitting assholes are gonna be riding my ass. [ Which is a euphemism, of course, for much less pleasant things. ] What's the worst thing that happens to you on any given day — what, you miss glee club? Oh, boohoo, yo.