[OPEN] Look out to the future but it tells you nothing, so take another breath.

[hostage]

Date & Time: August 18-25
Location: ???
Characters: Jesse & OPEN to all
Summary: Everyday encounters with one adorable junkie.
Warnings: Well, it's Jesse Pinkman, so drug abuse and spoilers.
Notes: This is a catch-all log. Put the date and location in the subject line.


[Routine. It's one of the first things they teach you in rehab: the importance of routine. The uncertainty of an unplanned day leads to anxiety, which leads to the temptation to use. Routine encourages stability and productivity. No guesswork, no drifting. It's all laid out. You wake up and you know what you're supposed to do until the moment it's time for sleep again.

Jesse is beyond saving when it comes to his addiction, but he still lives by the routine. It's important not because it'll stop him from using, but because it'll stop him from completely losing his mind and hurting someone again.

He doesn't bother with breakfast. He snorts a line of meth to get him going, because god knows that coffee isn't strong enough, and that kills his appetite pretty quick. He's out of the apartment around ten, smoking a cigarette on his way to the lab. Depending on what needs doing, he'll either spend the entire day there or run out to the clinics in town to administer anti-verstatsi drugs to the populace and help measure their progress. Another cigarette replaces lunch. When work is done, he puts in his training hours at the gun range. Then it's time to go home and wind down, which usually involves a joint or a needle or sex or all of the above. Weed helps him stomach a small dinner. He forces himself to shower even when he doesn't want to. He shoots tranq to get to sleep.

And repeat.]

Comments

[hostage]

[Jesse arches an eyebrow and then kind of... stares at Saul. For a good long moment. Only he's not just staring. He's doing his superpower thing. Or attempting, at least.]

[5055034455]

[Saul stares back. Squints.]

What are you doing?

[Then he feels it — like he's being drained, almost. And he knows exactly why.]

You little — don't you dare!

[hostage]

[Jesse holds up a hand to shush Saul. God, he's concentrating here.]

Holy shit, dude...

[5055034455]

[Like that's going to work.]

I have not been training my ass off every other day for you to come waltzing over here and do your weird... whatever. How does it even — are you, like, in me right now?

[hostage]

[This look.]

[5055034455]

[If this is what it'll take to get Jesse to stop it with the weird magic shit...]

I mean, I know me being so strong now is a total turn-on, but I just don't like you like that.

[A pause, a slow grin, and if Jesse knows what's good for him he should just exit this conversation right now.]

Then again, this place has opened me up to all sorts of new experiences...

[hostage]

[I hope you like being pistol-whipped, Saul, because here it comes.





But not really. He'll stop before it makes impact. Or... Too hard of an impact. Whatever.]

[5055034455]

[It's too bad Saul hasn't yet figured out how to turn himself to iron or whatever the hell it is, because he would have loved to see the look on Jesse's face for that. Maybe another time.

Instead, he ducks and charges, hauling Jesse up and over his shoulder like he's a sack of twigs.]

Coby's been throwing swords at me.

[Said like, you're gonna have to do better than that, kid.]

So are you done magically probing me now?

[hostage]

[This would be more impressive if Jesse actually weighed more than a sack of twigs. But if Saul's going to be like that, Jesse's going to actually smack him in the back of the head with that pistol he's still holding.]

Are you done being gay?!

[5055034455]

[Damn it, Jesse.

Also: ow.

Saul flinches, but he's also laughing. Because he's an idiot.]

Maybe.

[hostage]

Make that a "yes" and put me down or else I'll take it away and never give it back.

[5055034455]

Tch. So touchy.

[But he'll acquiesce. He sets Jesse down and dusts off his shoulder as an apology.]

Yes, I'm done being gay.

[hostage]

Jesus...

[Jesse tugs his pants back up, since they've sagged about halfway down his ass from all that wrestling, and he's still glaring at Saul.]

I can't believe that shit hasn't killed you yet.

[5055034455]

[Ways to sober Saul up: that.]

What the hell do you mean, kill me? Why would it kill me?

[hostage]

Uh, that shit shouldn't even be possible with our bodies. Your muscles are on crack. Including your heart, by the way, so...

[5055034455]

[He seems alarmed for all of five seconds before the look fades and he shrugs.]

Okay, so worst case scenario is that I have a heart attack and drop dead. Then I come back, am normal again, and we can all look back on this and laugh.

[hostage]

[Someone doesn't find this funny.]

[5055034455]

What? I like it. It's cool.

[hostage]

You having a mid-life crisis or something? You're not a badass, Saul. That isn't what you do.

[5055034455]

You know what? I'd love to run out and buy a hot little red convertible right now, but I don't think any exist anymore.

[Someone sounds a little offended.]

I'm not trying to be a badass. It's just nice to know that I'm no longer totally useless as far as actually protecting people is concerned.

[hostage]

[Jesse fumes for a moment longer before shoving the gun back into Saul's hands.]

You know what? Do whatever you want. Have fun.

[5055034455]

[Saul takes it, one eyebrow arched.]

What's your problem?

[hostage]

[His response is a disappointed shake of his head as he turns to walk away.]

[5055034455]

[In another world, where unicorns exist and money grows on trees and pigs fly and so on and so forth, Jesse has learned by now that walking away from Saul never works.

Unfortunately, this is not that world.

Saul is quick to reach out and gently grab Jesse's wrist, grip loose enough that Jesse could easily pull away.]

Can we skip the part where I have to pry it out of you and you just tell me what's wrong?

[hostage]

[Gentle as it is, Jesse's still startled by it. And of course he jerks his hand away, but he looks - for a split second - more frightened than angry.]

Don't.