Nacho snorts. It might be a hint of a laugh, maybe, if you're inclined to be optimistic. He's not the most expressive guy (understatement!), so you have to observe carefully and read between the lines a little bit to decipher his moods.

"Mike's busy," he says, by way of explanation. As if that's all the explanation Jimmy needs.

He keeps his hands at ten and two, but doesn't hit the gas just yet. He stares out the array of police officers scattered thorough the strip mall parking lot.

"Yo, what the fuck happened over there?"