[ Jane closes her eyes when he says he's heard she's been clean for a while. ]
Right. You probably know my whole life story by now.
[ Or a very heavily edited version of it, anyway. It's not a bad thing to tell someone, and she isn't angry, it's just-- well, she can imagine Jesse probably made her sound like some kind of saint, even if she doesn't feel like one right now. And while she doubts Saul believes anyone is a saint, Jane imagines the picture Jesse painted of her and the image of her as she is now-- weak, struggling, pathetic-- are probably very different.
But when he asks her what worked before, Jane obediently fishes her 18-month sobriety chip out of her pocket and sets it on the bar, before barely flicking it towards him with two fingers. ]
Sometimes looking at that helps. And meetings. I used to go to meetings. Mostly because my dad made me go, but it still helped sometimes. [ The pause here is long; Jane hesitates, not wanting to say what she's going to say. She prays, silently, that maybe he'll interrupt. Saul is a talker, after all. But he also seems to know when to talk. ] And staying away from people who use. Or at least not getting too involved, anyway. But you can't do that here. It's not Jesse. It's everybody. And there's nothing to do here half the time, except get fucked up.
[ Maybe that's the point. What had Saul said when she first reached out...? Idle hands are the devil's... well, you get the idea. ]
no subject
Right. You probably know my whole life story by now.
[ Or a very heavily edited version of it, anyway. It's not a bad thing to tell someone, and she isn't angry, it's just-- well, she can imagine Jesse probably made her sound like some kind of saint, even if she doesn't feel like one right now. And while she doubts Saul believes anyone is a saint, Jane imagines the picture Jesse painted of her and the image of her as she is now-- weak, struggling, pathetic-- are probably very different.
But when he asks her what worked before, Jane obediently fishes her 18-month sobriety chip out of her pocket and sets it on the bar, before barely flicking it towards him with two fingers. ]
Sometimes looking at that helps. And meetings. I used to go to meetings. Mostly because my dad made me go, but it still helped sometimes. [ The pause here is long; Jane hesitates, not wanting to say what she's going to say. She prays, silently, that maybe he'll interrupt. Saul is a talker, after all. But he also seems to know when to talk. ] And staying away from people who use. Or at least not getting too involved, anyway. But you can't do that here. It's not Jesse. It's everybody. And there's nothing to do here half the time, except get fucked up.
[ Maybe that's the point. What had Saul said when she first reached out...? Idle hands are the devil's... well, you get the idea. ]