justmakemoney | INBOX; Penance

[ Jane glances at the demon in the kitchen and back at Saul, as if to say What's taking so long? before he gets a grin with the lint roller joke. She says, lightly: ]

Oh, psssch. Don't worry. He's all better now.

[ Turns out, being a werewolf doesn't need to be a permanent condition with the right potions. Jane takes a deep breath, growing a little more serious. She's distracted from the reason she wanted to see him in the first place for long enough. ]

Hey, Saul? Can I ask you something personal? [ Immediately uncomfortable with the vulnerability she just expressed, Jane lapses back into joking again. ] 'Cause like, I know that's not an awkward thing to say at all, or whatever.

[He is still going to pick up lint rollers, just in case being extra hairy is a permanent change, even with the lycanthropy apparently cured. You can never be too safe, especially when apparently being a werewolf can just be cured like it's no big deal. He has concerns here, okay.

But as he suspected, Jesse's furry problem isn't what she wanted to talk about, not entirely. Not that he's not glad to know about it, though. He props his elbows up on the table, clasping his hands together in front of him, ready to hear what's bothering her.]

Hey, awkward is going to the courthouse to plead for forgiveness on behalf of a repeated public masturbator. You'll have to work hard to top some of the people I've dealt with.

[Which is to say, go ahead and ask, he'll figure out how to respond when he knows what the issue is.]

[ Jane laughs a little, but it's a hollow, small laugh. She doesn't even need to open her mouth for it; it's more like forcing a little bit of uneven air out through her nose.

But she guesses there's no way forward now except to bite the bullet. It's too late to just bail and run out the door, which is what she really wants to do. Nervously, Jane starts to play with her hair, still avoiding eye contact. ]

So. Like. You remember what we talked about on the boat, right? [ More hair twirling! ] Have you ever been addicted to anything, Saul?

[There are probably dozens of therapists or even casual acquaintances of his who could say Jimmy has his own issues with addiction, albeit to scams instead of any substance. And Saul as he is now isn't exactly squeaky clean. Alcohol, prescriptions, and sex workers have been a vital part of getting by as Saul Goodman before everything got too hot and he had to spend far too much of his time cleaning up Walt's messes while worrying about his own safety.

But talking about his issues? Who needs to do that, not Saul. So instead--]

Who among us hasn't had their struggles?

[Vague enough and conversational enough to pass, right? Right.]

You know what sort of clients I work for, right? I've been around it enough to get it.

Yeah, yeah. I know.

[ Saul defends screw-ups, in other words. It’s what he’s known for.

Screw-ups like her.

Jane abandons fiddling with her hair for just folding her hands on the bar in front of her. And then staring at those. ]

It’s everywhere, Saul.

[His expression softens into something more sympathetic, more like a real person and less like the caricature of Saul Goodman that's all but second nature at this point. He knows it's everywhere, it helps the sinners continue to sin, and that temptation has to be even worse for Jane.]

Part of the whole Hell thing, I'd think.

[He means it in a sympathetic way, knowing full well that he's seen all sorts of drugs for offer everywhere.]

You were clean for a while, I've been told. What worked back then?

[ 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. ]

[He tilts his head a bit, pulling a bit of a face to confirm that yes, he does know more than a bit about her life. Not just from Jesse, either, but the point is, he's heard enough to know some basic points about Jane's life.

As she passes the chip across the bar, Saul picks it up, turning it around to look at it a bit. He's never really seen one of these in person, but he knows it's the real deal. It's almost a bit cruel for her to have wound up bringing this with her into Hell, given how she died.]

You're not wrong there.

[Alcohol and drugs were everywhere, and very much encouraged by the demons.]

Where we are right now is a bit of a departure from normalcy, as far as Hell goes. Or so I've been told. But I know there are a few people who made their own sort of barter businesses back when we were in the hotel.

[ When Saul makes that face, Jane sighs. ]

Great. [ Nothing personal, Saul! She wouldn't have reached out to him if she didn't think she could trust him, after all. But there's still something unsettling about knowing someone knows a lot more about you than you do about them, even if you don't believe they'd use it against you.

She watches him look at the token, and wonders for maybe the twentieth time since she arrived in Hell, why she didn't just throw it out. But she can't bring herself to. And sometimes, at night, when she can't sleep, Jane stays up in bed just staring at it, flipping it over and over in her hands. Thinking. About the way she died, about the days leading up to it... ]

Eighteen months just to fuck it up anyway. That's how it goes. Right? [ When he mentions the idea of people opening businesses, though, she does seem to brighten a little, and something inside her stirs. ] That's what Jesse said! He said he could get me a tattoo gun, maybe a little studio...

[ That seems to brighten her spirits a little. Still, when the pies finally arrive, even though she shoots Saul a half-smile and an eyeroll that says 'took long enough', she still can't help but feel like her appetite is gone. She tries to hang onto the idea of the tattoo studio, though, since she likes that, and finds it weirdly comforting somehow. ]

Hey, maybe you should get a tattoo. You don't have one. Do you?

[Saul takes no offense to it, of course. He knows his reputation. He's done a lot of work to cultivate that reputation, after all! And it's one thing for him to know the secrets of his clients and other people he works with, but Jane wasn't one of those while alive. And he knows more than a thing or two about being uncomfortable with people knowing your secrets.

Which is why he says nothing about it, and instead--]

Me? No. Came close a few times during my wild and free youth, but never wound up getting one. Convinced a few other people to get some, though.

[His other scams and bar stunts, those were fine. But a tattoo probably would've upset his mother, and who wants that?]

[ Well, your mother's not here now, is she Saul??? Which is probably a good thing, considering that it is Hell.

Jane's grateful-- maybe more grateful that he could possibly know-- that Saul doesn't press. Even though she came here to talk, what she really wanted was just a distraction. Something to take the edge off the urges she feels pounding on her. Not always. Not constantly.

But loud and almost painful, throbbing, when its there. When she can feel it.

Jane hums quietly and takes one of his arms. Gently, of course. Assuming he doesn't resist or brush it away. She'll even try to roll up one of his sleeves if he'll let her, placing her fingers on his forearm. ]

I think you would look badass with, like, a tribal tat right here. Around your arm, just above the wrist. Before your elbow. It has to be something you can cover up. A teardrop on your face isn't very fitting for a lawyer.

[ She takes her fingers away. ]

Let's go outside. I need a smoke.

[ Her food is sitting there, untouched. She's not hungry anymore. Maybe the demons took too long to bring it. ]

[He lets Jane do her thing, unable to resist a snort of laughter at her comment about a teardrop tattoo. It might get him a few new clients or some attention he doesn't actually want, on top of it just not flying with Judge Papadoumian. It would ruin his snazzy dresser image.]

Gotta be careful there's no hidden meaning in those tribal tats. I don't want to go in to visit a client at Los Lunas only to walk out with a shiv in my shoulder.

[Sure, they're in Hell, they're dead, that isn't a possibility in any sense anymore, but it's a joke he can't resist making.

Saul slides off of his chair, sparing a glance at the food left behind as he follows Jane outside. rip wasted pies, but also he's not so sure he trusts they wouldn't have somehow found a bird inside them at some point anyway.]

You could get something in Chinese instead. The secret meaning could be "beef and broccoli."

[ Outside, it's about as cold as it ever is in Mammon's Lands, which is to say: very. But the bracing chill in the air is kind of nice compared to the stuffy air in the semi-crowded tavern. She takes a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs, before she slides a back of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket and turns to Saul. ]

Do you smoke, Saul?

Edited 2022-12-19 18:03 (UTC)

Haven't in a few years.

[Well, he's probably smoked a few times with Kim here, but he's not counting that. That's different, since this is Hell and they're dead. Not that he stopped smoking for any health reasons, though everything he's seen from Walter White would be more than enough of a "quit smoking" warning for anyone. No, the urge to smoke stopped when there was no more Kim around for him to share a cigarette with.]

Not since I faked a smoking habit to have an excuse to talk to someone at an old job.

Want one now?

[ She pulls a cigarette out for herself and holds it between her teeth. Then she holds out the pack, one of the cigarettes sticking out meaningfully, for him to take. Or not. If he wants to. ]

Sounds like somebody special. [ Her voice is teasing a little, but she won't press that hard if he doesn't want her to. ]

[He shrugs, reaching for the offered cigarette. It's always a bit awkward when spending time with someone and only one of them is smoking. When in Rome, and all that.]

You know how it goes. When the only time she's not working or burying her nose in law books is when she's taking a smoke break, you take what you can get.

[It's innocent enough information, something easy enough to be a story or reality, and he's always found that sharing stories--whether true or not--tends to put other people at ease when they feel they have something they can relate to.]

[ She lights her cigarette, then his, then takes a deep drag. ]

Oh, yeah? [ There is, actually, something she does relate it to, as it turns out. It kind of reminds her of the way she met Jesse. Not that he was just pretending to smoke, but she knew when he was timing his smoke breaks to match hers when she was outside. ]

She probably knew what you were doing. After all. I could tell when Jesse did stuff like that. Not exactly like that. But you get it.

[Saul raises the cigarette in a half-cheers sort of gesture before taking a drag himself.

He snorts a bit in amusement, both at Jane's observation and at the image of Jesse doing the same sort of thing. Clearly being a lovesick idiot and totally coincidentally timing breaks works out. It never fails. 100% success rate for both Jimmy and Jesse, just ignore how everything ended.]

I guarantee she did. But she must've found it funny enough to not say anything about it.

[ Jane takes a puff of her cigarette and looks at him. The smoke billows out from her nose as she exhales before speaking.

She can think of another reason. ]

Or she liked you back.

[He knows well enough that, at least back then, Jane's guess is correct. As far as his current time, he has no idea what Kim thinks of him, if she even still does or if she's enjoying her Floridian life, doing... whatever depressing things people in Florida do. (well, he knows what she does, he's made a point to know, just to make sure she's safe and alive, but that's a different discussion.) So instead--]

I like to think it was my roguish charm and sophisticated sense of humor that won her over.

[ Jane takes another puff, and then removes the cigarette from her mouth to tap off the excess ash. As she does, she looks at him with a deadpan expression. ]

"Roguish charm," huh? Is that what they're calling multiple subpoenas from the IRS these days?

Edited 2022-12-24 01:38 (UTC)

[He points an accusatory finger at Jane, but the generally amused expression on his face is enough to show he's not really insulted by her commentary. In fact, he finds it pretty funny. (You should've told that to Jesse, Jane!!!)]

Hey, I'm many things, but a tax cheat I am not. If the IRS can get Capone, they can get anyone. I'm not about to mess with that.

Oh, yeah? Well, if I ever need to know how to launder money in Hell, then I know who to call. [ Puff. She's quiet for a moment. When she does speak, her voice is softer. She looks down and swings a foot, kicking awkwardly at the ground. ] Thanks, Saul.

[well at least someone in the Jesse-Jane duo knows the importance of laundering money. smh jesse never learned.

Saul takes another drag on his cigarette, giving Jane a nod of acknowledgement.]

Any time.

[ She takes another, loooong drag of her cigarette, before she drops it to the ground and crushes it out under her shoe, watching the orange embers die slowly as she scuffs the butt deeper into the muddy mess of dirt and snow she's standing on . ]

I should probably get going. But if you ever change your mind about that tattoo, I'm serious. Hit me up.

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