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[She has to set the tablet down for a moment just to scrub her hands over her face, before pushing them through her hair, as if that might get rid of whatever it is she's feeling.]

I'm glad you're better. [Really, even if there's still a strain in her voice.] Sorry I wasn't there.

[She should've been. If he stopped breathing for so long. She could've helped.]

You were. I saw you. You missed out on all the fun, yeah, but I saw you. Woke up while you were asleep.

[Which is true, mostly. The first time it happened. The second time, he feigned sleep until he was sure she was out, and then he watched her. Just like he did with Jesse.]

What about you? Are you okay?

You know what I meant.

[Even if there's a part of her that's glad he knew she was there, for at least a little while. She should have been there when he wasn't breathing.

Guilt is probably her least favourite feeling.]

I slept for like two days once we got back to our beds, but that was really all I needed.

[She still feels like shit emotionally, but that's not something she wants to talk to Saul about.]

[He agrees; guilt is the worst.

Guilt is what makes him ask this next question:] What about everyone else? Your friends. Are they alright?

Yeah. [There's an automatic instinct to mention Ellie, because, well, because it's Ellie, but she realizes that's probably not the best idea right now.] The antibiotics seem to be working for everyone who was sick, and most of my friends managed to stay safe during the bombing.

[Jaime managed to get himself paralyzed, but he was fine eventually.]

How's Jesse?

[That's the thing — he meant Ellie, specifically.

Everything is so stupid.]

That's good. Jesse's... [He trails off, hesitates.] He was with me the whole time. He's doing better.

[She's not entirely sure she believes that.]

Do you think he's gonna keep getting better?

I guess that depends what definition of "better" we're working with.

Let's start with 'doing less drugs', maybe?

[Her tone's a little flat there, because she's trying really hard not to be judgemental, she just... has a lot of issues tied up with addiction.]

Less, yeah.

[Probably not the answer she was looking for. And Saul's not even sure that's true, himself — for all he knows, Jesse could've built up a tolerance again.]

I suppose that's better than nothing.

[She feels a little guilty because she doesn't want to worry about Jesse, not when she's got enough shit to deal with and he pretty clearly doesn't want her help.]

[And maybe Saul senses that, or maybe he's just assuming, or maybe he feels like Jesse Pinkman needs to come with a warning label, but:] He's my responsibility. Don't worry about it.

[Somehow that just makes her feel worse.]

Worrying about people is my job.

[She hasn't been a very good vigilante, lately.]

That's my job, too. So I don't need to worry about you worrying about him on top of worrying about both of you anyway.

[...did that even make sense?]

[Surprisingly, yes. Although:]

You know you don't need to worry about me, right?

[It's weird that he does because it means he... cares... or something.

It'd be so much easier if she could pretend he just wanted to sleep with her and that was the end of things.]

Of course I do; you're my client.

[Client.

Such an easy label to fall back on.]

You didn't pay me that marque for nothing, y'know.

[She doesn't know what to say to that. She's a little bit tempted to point out that she doesn't need a lawyer, that they were just joking (and hasn't that been the problem with a lot of things, lately?) but it seems mean.

She just sighs, instead.]

I guess not.

[She tries to keep her tone light, but it's an effort in futility.

Everything feels so awkward.]

[Maybe it's because he almost died (again), or maybe it's because his priorities have been completely re-shuffled in the past couple of weeks, or maybe he just needed some time to himself — which he got, courtesy of the virus. Or maybe it's all three of those things that have helped clear his head of the smoky mess sparked by Walt's arrival.

And that situation, thankfully, has stabilized. He won't go as far as saying it's improved, because the only way it'll improve is if Walt disappears into the ether again, but it's stabilized. That's all Saul can ask for, right now.

Anyway, the point is: he genuinely feels better.

So maybe they can talk about it.]

Talk to me, Steph. What's on your mind?

[That isn't really a question she wanted to hear, if she's being honest, and she's kind of surprised by it, when she thought they were just gonna keep skirting around the topic. She could lie; he'd are right through it, she's sure, but maybe he'd pretend not to for her sake. But - maybe they should talk about it. Maybe it'd make her feel less awful.

There's still a bit of a pause as she tries to work out what to say, before eventually she just goes with the simplest response.]

You kissed me.

[Somehow she manages to sound mostly casual, but there's a hint of questioning in it, too. She doesn't know what they're supposed to do, after that.]

I did.

[No use in denying that.

He's content to let her lead this conversation. She's obviously way more bothered by what happened than he is (and with good reason, he supposes) — maybe it'll be easier if he puts himself in a position where all he has to do is supply responses. Like pretending he's on the witness stand, almost.

So that's all he says, for now: I did.]

[She's not sure what she was expecting, maybe an excuse or an explanation, or an apology. Just - something, and it annoys her a little, that he apparently doesn't have anything more to say to her than that.

But she really doesn't want to stay this conversation with an argument, so she just sighs, and takes a moment to sort out her thoughts.]

What do you want from me, Saul?

[Maybe that's not fair, either, when he told her that he didn't want anything, but she has to ask, anyway.

And it seems better than asking why?]

[No, that's not a fair question, but Saul respects her for asking it. He was expecting a why, really, or an empty, buzzing silence from her hanging up on him, but this? This is direct. He appreciates directness.

But that's not going to change his answer.]

Nothing. And I know that doesn't make sense — trust me, I know — but that's the truth. What do you think I want, huh? A nice little roll in the hay? Bragging rights?

[That makes her flinch, and she's grateful he can't see it.]

No, jesus, I'm not-- [She doesn't think he's enough of a jerk to think he's just after bragging rights. He's definitely not stupid enough to think he'd get away with something like that. Whatever that sentence was, though, she decides to drop it.] I don't know what you want, that's kind of why I asked.

[And his answer hasn't made things any less confusing.]

[welp

Saul is quiet for a moment, then sighs.]

You wanna know why I did it?

That'd be helpful, yeah.

[As if this is some case she needs to solve.]

exsilium; ic inbox

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gdi

this is gonna go great

:'D

sadtrombone

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