Chapter Text
I've been screwing Jesse Pinkman for three weeks now.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Ol' Saul Goodman's finally lost it, gone off the deep end - run amok. It doesn't matter what you think. That's what happened to me, and it's the shortest explanation I have.
Well. I could elaborate a little.
He came to me, first of all, is what you have to understand. The kid had been acting weird all week - I got no explanation, from either him or Walt.
Yeah, I gave the big boss a call. Asked if he'd poisoned another child or stolen some of Jesse's money or whatnot; given him a reason to pout like his grandma just died around me. Walt had nothing. He gave me the proverbial finger and hung up - real classy guy.
So I was left with Mister Doe-Eyes taking up space in my waiting room and jerking me around. I tell you, between the two of them, they make the biggest headcase in all of New Mexico. Maybe America. The kid? No exception.
He comes into my office this one time, same expression, like he knows he's taking up my time and wants to get something off his chest but can't, and after we talk for ten or so minutes - about... fuck if I know, money? - he wanders over like he's finally figured it out, puts his hand on my chest and kisses me.
Yeah. Me. Jesse Pinkman, drug dealer/murderer for one of the biggest assholes on the planet, kissing me, his criminal attorney. The shit that happens to me, you wouldn't believe.
So I of course, in my ineffable wisdom, back away and hit the desk. Some combination of "woah" or "wait" comes out of my mouth, but the kid's persistent and he seriously wants to give me a kiss, and well - I'm not heartless, who am I to say no? Plus, I have Gloria lined up for an appointment to "pay her fees" in half an hour and routine gets pretty pushy when you're edging closer to early retirement.
I kiss him back. What of it? He seems to like it.
That was my first mistake. See, having a little give and take with the client is nothing new to me. Some people don't have the money, some give a really great blowjob, that's the grandeur of the criminal underworld, sorry to say. The one thing you don't do under any circumstances is get involved with a client. This was the second I started breaking that rule.
See, to the Saul of that moment, Jesse Pinkman was just another client, one that I'd seen many times before. I deal with a lot of junkies and I think I spent more time wishing I'd never seen him or his partner come into my firm than I ever praised him. Don't think I'd ever said a good truthful word to his face, before then.
When he pulled back, with his face coloured pink and his lip looking the same way it had with that sucker punch the other week, I lost it. Something in the impregnable Saul train broke and derailed. In other words, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I was fucked.