Hey, far be it for Lalo to say no to a scheme or money! Both excellent things. Both far more worthwhile than some bullshit foundation. But this is a time machine they're talking about here.
As if he can read minds (...he can't though, can he? Can he, Saul?), he cheerfully clarifies, "Hey, if you just want money, don't let me stop you. But me personally, hey, I think we cornered that angle already with the dinosaurs." Hands up, palms out, eyebrows raised. Then he laughs.
Even Saul has to admit that lottery numbers and stock options are boringly pedestrian when you can charge people to ride a... what are the ones with the horns called? Ah, whatever! Doesn't matter!
Saul's phrasing throws him for a loop, though, as he tries to decipher what exactly is being said here. "...Slip...and fall?" He squints and tilts his head as he works out in real time when Saul is alluding to. Or what he's trying to say. Eventually it seems like he figures it out, though, or gets close enough.
"Ahhh, not me! My tío. He's sick. Of course, I don't know how far back I'd have to go, what I'd have to do, to make sure he didn't have his stroke." Lalo is as chatty as ever but his voice becomes quiet, soft, thoughtful. "Maybe get him to retire?" A private joke only he gets; Saul won't understand why it's funny that nobody retires from cartel life. "Nah, but he can't. Not with the Tuco the way he..." Lalo laughs and makes the crazy sign at his own head. "Well, you know Tuco!"
Saul's run-in with Tuco is still a source of entertainment for Lalo, when he thinks about it. Which isn't really all that often, but it's hard not to call it to mind right now.
A thought occurs to him. "Maybe I'd make sure Tuco never started using. Get somebody on him day one. Before it got to this. Yeah. With a time machine? I think that's what I'd do. Keep Tuco clean." Tuco is increasingly eractic and unpredictably violent even by Salamanca standards, after all, which is saying something, and Lalo has the sinking suspicion it'll only get worse if they don't keep somebody on him every second. Which they will, but what if they didn't have to?
It's all fantasy, anyway.
The softness, the thoughtfulness, the quietness is gone in an instant. Lalo perks right back up again and slaps the table. "Hey, but what am I telling you this for? You don't give a shit." He laughs.
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As if he can read minds (...he can't though, can he? Can he, Saul?), he cheerfully clarifies, "Hey, if you just want money, don't let me stop you. But me personally, hey, I think we cornered that angle already with the dinosaurs." Hands up, palms out, eyebrows raised. Then he laughs.
Even Saul has to admit that lottery numbers and stock options are boringly pedestrian when you can charge people to ride a... what are the ones with the horns called? Ah, whatever! Doesn't matter!
Saul's phrasing throws him for a loop, though, as he tries to decipher what exactly is being said here. "...Slip...and fall?" He squints and tilts his head as he works out in real time when Saul is alluding to. Or what he's trying to say. Eventually it seems like he figures it out, though, or gets close enough.
"Ahhh, not me! My tío. He's sick. Of course, I don't know how far back I'd have to go, what I'd have to do, to make sure he didn't have his stroke." Lalo is as chatty as ever but his voice becomes quiet, soft, thoughtful. "Maybe get him to retire?" A private joke only he gets; Saul won't understand why it's funny that nobody retires from cartel life. "Nah, but he can't. Not with the Tuco the way he..." Lalo laughs and makes the crazy sign at his own head. "Well, you know Tuco!"
Saul's run-in with Tuco is still a source of entertainment for Lalo, when he thinks about it. Which isn't really all that often, but it's hard not to call it to mind right now.
A thought occurs to him. "Maybe I'd make sure Tuco never started using. Get somebody on him day one. Before it got to this. Yeah. With a time machine? I think that's what I'd do. Keep Tuco clean." Tuco is increasingly eractic and unpredictably violent even by Salamanca standards, after all, which is saying something, and Lalo has the sinking suspicion it'll only get worse if they don't keep somebody on him every second. Which they will, but what if they didn't have to?
It's all fantasy, anyway.
The softness, the thoughtfulness, the quietness is gone in an instant. Lalo perks right back up again and slaps the table. "Hey, but what am I telling you this for? You don't give a shit." He laughs.