bridgescribble | what sounds better? revenge or popcorn?

1. Money can't buy happiness.
2. I got myself a time machine.
3. Not a single thing about you matters.
4. Or if they just seem terrible because I hate them.
5. And the other a razor.
6. Like the cops have no idea.
7. [wildcard!]

"If you had a time machine, where would you go?"

Lalo is in his orange inmate jumpsuit, sitting across the table from Saul. They're in one of the bare rooms where prisoners are allowed contact with their counsel, and as far as Lalo was concerned, their discussion was over. Saul was going to get him out on bail, so he could go back to Mexico. The end!

But then, right before the lawyer had finished leaving he had stopped.

And posed Lalo with one of the few questions that ever would, or could, completely confound him. He repeats it like Saul just spoke to him in a foreign language. There's a quirk first of his mouth, then of his whole head, then a confused little sparkle in his eyes, as repeats the question in a tone of voice that definitely laughing-in-a-mean-way under the initial surprise and confusion.

"...if I had a time machine, where would I... go...?"

Lalo sits all the way back in his chair and snorts.

"Yeah. I mean, you could go back in time, you could go forward. It's your time machine, your rules. Where would you go?"

It's the sort of question that always rattles around in Jimmy's mind when he's got too much time to think. Where would he go? What would he do? How would he change his life or the world because of his choices? He has plenty of answers to those questions, albeit private answers, some things he barely wants to admit to himself and wants even less to share with Lalo Salamanca of all people.

But as it stands, he's here to defend Lalo--sorry, Jorge de Guzman, in court for the heinous murder of some poor minimum wage worker. And he knows his job, he knows what he's supposed to do, because he's now a friend of the Cartel. And even if he wasn't, he knows he has very little choice but to do as Lalo asks. The one thing he knows comparatively little about being the man sitting in an orange jumpsuit before him. It isn't important, he doesn't need to know anything about Lalo in order to do his job quickly and get Lalo out of his hair, but Jimmy has never had an easy time resisting his curiosity.

What the hell kind of question is that, man? Lalo's brow furrows like he's trying to make sense of it.

But it seems like a game of some kind, so — okay! Far be it for Lalo not to go along with a game.

Still leaned forward, Lalo rubs his chin and his mustache thoughtfully. Deciding.

Then he sits back in his chair and slams down on the table with one hand. "Aha! Alright! Got it!" He sounds entirely too happy about whatever he's come up with.

"First, I'd use it to send anyone who double crosses me back to dinosaur times." Lalo sounds positively gleeful about this part. He trusts his lawyer will see the brilliance.

"Then, I could charge anything I wanted for people to use it. My machine, my rules. I'd make billions. Maybe I'd charge a billion a go. And if anyone didn't pay up — "

He grins.

"Dinosaur times again!"

He's not sure what he expected as a response from Lalo, but somehow all of this is perfectly in line with what he knows of the man. Is it bullshit? Is it his real answer? It's difficult for him to say. Lalo is the kind of guy that's near impossible to get a read of beyond 'danger.'

But he has a role to play here, too, no matter how sincere Lalo is with his answer. He raises his eyebrows, pointing at Lalo in a well-practiced way, something seemingly approving and impressed with his reasoning.

"Now there's an idea!"

It's an idea, of course, but not an idea he personally is too big on. But that's just a minor detail, they don't need to dwell on that part.

"You might even get people willing to spend billions for that dinosaur trip. Take Jurassic Park and kick it up a notch."

Lalo's eyes glitter. "Now you're talkin'! I like it!"

Whether his initial suggestion was sincere or not — which, honestly, who knows — he seems taken with Saul's upping the ante, even giving a Saul an enthusiastic finger point that's nothing at all like the ones Saul is known for.

Then he leans back in his chair, alllll the way back, rocking as the first two legs leave the ground entirely. He strokes his moustache thoughtfully, his energy quieter but no less foreboding. "For myself, I think I'd just go back to all the times I loved. You know? I wouldn't change anything. I'd just re-live it. Just like it was the first time."

This answer, at least, is probably more sincere than the first one. Lalo doesn't traffic in regrets. He does traffic in copious amounts of bullshit, though, so it's always impossible to verify his sincerity with foolproof accuracy.

He leans forward again. There's a faint clang as the metallic front legs of his chair collide suddenly with the concrete floor.

"What about you? Hmmm? Where would you go, Saul?"

He sounds like he's trying not to laugh out loud.

Somehow Lalo's second answer is a softer one than Jimmy expected. For all he knows, though, the times Lalo loved could be things like... brutal torture, or killing an innocent man in cold blood, or arson, or anything worse than that. He's going to keep a happy thought and imagine that maybe deep down, there's something normal about the cartel boss sitting before him, and that he enjoys things other than crime. For his own sanity as he bullshits the law to get him out on bail. Somehow.

Truly he doesn't know much at all about Lalo, and really, he doesn't want to, much like he told his cousin a year or so prior. The difference now is he doesn't have much of a choice in knowing the other man and being tangled up in his business. It's not as if being a friend of the cartel or not is a real choice he can make. It's either that, or death, probably, and he knows it.

"Me? I wouldn't go too far back. Just a few years, but it's all about the game and not what you could see with a time machine."

That part, at least, isn't him bullshitting. A few years earlier, he could change things. Maybe he could fix Chuck, spend more time with his mother before she passed. But those are thoughts that not only does he not want to think about, Lalo doesn't need to know that part of his life either. So instead he goes with--

"Think about it. Knowing what we know now, which companies end up being huge, you could play the stock market and win. Rake in all the cash you want as you sit on the beach being served mai tais by a bunch of waitresses in bikinis."

Oh, you know. Some of Column A, some of Column B! Would Saul be queasy to know that some of what Lalo wants to re-live is, in fact, killing and torturing people, just as he suspects? Or would he simply be relieved to know that not all of it is? Mixed in with the (pleasant and nostalgic, to Lalo) memories of arson and snapping people's fingers with pliers and shooting people execution-style in the desert is, indeed, what most people would consider to be normal memories as well -- parties, learning to cook, Ciro's first shaky steps. For Lalo, those memories meld seamlessly with the memories of torture and murder; all of it gives him the same slightly warm, slightly melancholy feeling of wanting to experience something lost to time, that can never be repeated again.

Maybe it's a good thing Lalo isn't elaborating after all.

Lalo cocks his head as his laywer starts to talk, rubbing his moustache a little bit as he listens. Then he pulls his hand away from his face. "The... stock market?" he repeats incredulously, like he's making sure he heard Saul correctly. Lalo pulls his hand away from his face and shakes his head. He snorts, and laughs silently a little.

"That's bullshit." Lalo doesn't sound angry, despite the blunt confrontationalness of his words. In fact, he sounds vaguely amused. "What would you really do, Saul? Hm? C'mon. You can tell me."

If you can trust Lalo Salamanca with your most private desires, who can you trust?

Saul doesn't even trust himself with his most private desires. Trusting Lalo with them makes even less sense, and would require him to admit to things he doesn't even feel comfortable accepting. There are too many things in his life that leave him thinking what if that dwelling on them serves no purpose except to upset him when he's in an especially down mood. What if he hadn't done that one last scam with Marco, what if he hadn't just left after that final argument with Chuck, and that's just the tip of the iceberg.

But he isn't about to fold to Lalo's claims of bullshit. Instead, he points with both hands, eyebrows raised, like he's about to lay out some fantastical truths about illegal time travel stock market manipulation.

"No, think about it. Anything you missed out on in the past? That can all be solved with an extra bit of cash, can't it? Slip on a patch of ice and screw up your knee permanently? Not a problem if you can afford the good doctors. You can even set up your own foundation, scholarships and everything, and watch those dividends roll in."

"Foundation?"

Lalo gives a baffled snort. A foundation does sound like the kind of pointless thing the Saul in Lalo's imagination would want though. At least in Lalo's mind, Saul can be annoyingly goody-goody at times, for a scumbag.

"Sure, man. Whatever you say." Lalo frowns though. He thinks about Hector, alone in the nursing home, with a condition no doctors — as far as Lalo's been told, anyway — could truly cure.

He's leaned back in his chair, and gives Saul a listless half-shrug.

"Gotta say, Mr. Goodman, seems to me you're way off-base about the doctors. If you ask me" — and Saul definitely didn't, but since when has that ever stopped Lalo before? — "there are some things no doctor can fix."

He strokes his moustache thoughtfully. "Maybe if there was a way to prevent slipping on the ice in the first place. In a sense, right? Then maybe..." He puts his hand down.

"Ah, but sometimes there isn't, is there?" He makes a face, raising his eyebrows. "Sometimes the ice is just inevitable." As far as Lalo is aware, anyway, it's not like he could do anything to prevent his Tío's stroke.

Edited 2023-02-20 22:03 (UTC)

Underneath the facade of Saul Goodman, he doesn't disagree with Lalo. There are some things that just can't be fixed, and really it would just be easier to prevent those things from happening in the first place. To un-shit that sunroof, so to speak, but he's not sure he'd want to do that one.

Lalo's reaction, though, is interesting to him. It's not what he expected. Lalo, incredibly wealthy scion of a drug empire that he is, seemed to Saul like the type to appreciate a good scheme and living the wealthy life. After all, he was the one who told him his (admittedly bullshitted) motto should be changed to 'just make money.' Lalo having this much of a reaction to the hypothetical best doctors fixing a not-so-hypothetical injury is far from how he assumed this would go.

He pauses for a moment, pursing his lips as he weighs his options. He doesn't need to know Lalo as a person to do his job, not beyond what he already knows, and he also doesn't want to know him. But he'd be lying if he said his curiosity weren't getting the better of him.

"Sounds like you've got your own slip and fall injury, so to speak."

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.

Edited 2023-03-01 01:44 (UTC)

Ah, the uncle. Of course it's the uncle. Now if Saul were honest and not at risk of being a future cartel hit as soon as he's out of this room, he would say good riddance to poor tio Salamanca. As far as he cares, the fewer of these psychos out there in any vicinity to him, the better. But he can't say that, and instead, trains his face to look sympathetic as Lalo explains his situation. And truthfully, ignoring his own feelings about Tuco, it's not hard to be a bit sympathetic here.

"No, that's not it. I mean, I've got first-hand experience with meeting Tuco in... less than ideal circumstances. You know that."

Less than ideal, of course, being the nicest way to put his experience with Tuco Salamanca, and he would be happy to never have to repeat that ever.

"I think it's admirable, how close your whole family seems to be. You seem to really look out for Tuco and your Tio, and I remember how protective Tuco was of your lovely Abuelita. Jorge de Guzman must feel the same about his family, too, huh?"

A cloud crosses over Lalo's expression at the mention of Abuelita, but it passes quickly. Instead, he zeroes in on something else Saul said.

"Jorge... De Guzman...?" he repeats. Then he snort-laughs.

"Sure," he says, with the air of a parent humoring a small child playing make believe. "Jorge De Guzman loves his family, too."

As far as Lalo is concerned, Jorge De Guzman doesn't love anyone or anything because he isn't real. Just a fake name to stay out of trouble with the law long enough to get out on bail and head home to Mexico. But he'll go along with Saul's statement for now, out of curiosity to see where this thread leads if nothing else.

Edited 2023-03-13 03:11 (UTC)

He notices Lalo's clouded expression, and that's enough to tell him to not touch that area. Poor Abuelita probably had her age catch up with her, that's the only thing he can think of, and that it's a miracle she managed to live as long as she did with a family as stressful as hers. But he's not about to tell Lalo that.

"Now, uh, let's just say I'm hip to how all this is going to go."

The bail, he means, assuming anyone would even go for it, and that Lalo is going to end up long gone and never to be seen again once he's free from prison. And in fact, that's what he wants! Please, go have fun over there.

"But that family stuff, that plays well with the judges. So, introduce me to Jorge De Guzman. That's who I'm here to represent. A... fine and upstanding family man from the greater Albuquerque area, who ended up in an unfortunate mix-up with the law."

It's very smart of Saul not to pursue that line of conversation any further. Very smart!

What Saul is saying seems to be the right tactic, though. He's sitting straight up, instead of languidly flopping back in his chair or crouching forward like a cat on the hunt.

"¡Buena idea!" he says, and he slaps the table. He's grinning, which isn't unusual, but he's actually listening to what Saul has to say without being a dismissive asshole about it, which is. "So... if I had a family..."

He laughs. "'Ey, see what I mean? You're the guy for this! Evil genius."

He's not entirely sure how he feels about being called an evil genius as a positive, or that he's just reassuring Lalo's idea that he's the guy for things like this. But that's an issue for future Jimmy to weigh the morals of. Right now, he has a job to do, and figure out how to end up getting bail for a guy who absolutely did the crime he is accused of. Being a lawyer sure is fun!

He offers a smile at Lalo's compliment, because he's sure Lalo expects him to be pleased by this acknowledgement. And even if he's in prison, keeping in Lalo's good graces is the safest place to be.

"I've just got some experience in this area, shall we say. And the best stories always have elements of truth to them. It's how you make it more believable."

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Frustration gnaws at Nacho internally. What the fuck, man? The nail salon's parking lot is crawling with cops, and he's not dumb or suicidal enough to get within a ten foot radius of whatever the hell is going on over there. Especially not in a vehicle known to the cops. He can hear a voice in his head telling him it was stupid to come here in this van, and he mentally swats it away like an irritating fly. He didn't know this place was gonna be crawling with cops, okay.

So he sits in his van, both hands lazily resting on the steering wheel and his head on his hands, parked some distance away. But close enough to see. Watching. Waiting.

Jimmy had asked Mike for... something. Nacho isn't clear on the details. But Mike, as it turns out, is otherwise occupied today. Nacho had promised Mike he'd help Jimmy instead, with whatever it was Jimmy needed. He hadn't asked Mike why he needed Nacho to go instead, but he figures Mike's gotta have something more important to do. He wonders if Mike told Jimmy to expect him; selfishly, he kinda hopes not, because he wants to see Jimmy jump out of his skin as revenge for having to wait outside this police-filled parking lot. Mike's usually so thorough, though, that Nacho can't imagine he wouldn't have filled Jimmy in.

That's when he sees it. A familiar(...ish? It's not like they're close or anything) ginger combover exiting the nail salon. He sits up a little and gets ready to turn the key in the ignition. He just needs Jimmy further away from the cops first... come on, man...

Of course there are cops today. Why wouldn't there be? Things never went according to plan or easily for Jimmy, and this is clearly no different. Not that he's anything more than a law abiding citizen and a tenant who is paid up on rent and in good standing, no sir. But he's a known entity to the cops, as a defense attorney, and nosy as they are, he can't imagine one or two of them won't take note of him.

He scrubs his face, groaning in annoyance, before making up his mind and composing himself. He has no real choice but to risk it. He wouldn't say he's good friends with Mike by any means--he doesn't even know if Mike has friends with his cantankerous attitude and dislike of small talk and.... well, any talk--but he knows the guy well enough by now. And he knows he won't put up with late people.

With a pleasant greeting to Mrs. Nguyen and her salon ladies, Jimmy makes his way out of the salon, going for a totally non suspicious normal healthy lunchtime walk. In the opposite direction of the cops. He glances at the road, looking for any sign of Mike's old car, but so far nothing. Maybe he's the early one this time, who would've thunk it.

So, Mike didn't fill him in, huh? That's Nacho's guess anyway, judging by how Jimmy is just standing by the side of the road, a confused expression on his face like he's looking for somebody.

Great.

So. Okay. How does he go about this?

Nacho's stomach does a little flip, glancing at all of those cops hanging around. What the fuck even happened in that shopping center? Who picks a busy shopping mall to commit a crime at anyway?

Frustrated but desperate enough to risk it, there's the loud, high-pitched squeal of tires as Nacho's van comes pulling up to the curb where Jimmy is standing. He leans out the window and hisses only two simple words.

"Get in."

Jimmy gawks for a moment as Nacho pulls up aside him. He, indeed, wasn't filled in on this part of the plan. Sure, Nacho has about as much hair as Mike and probably just as much patience for small talk, but aside from that, they're two entirely different vibes. But he doesn't need to be told twice to get in, especially not from Nacho.

He opens the door, quickly pulling himself into the passenger seat. It's just one friend getting a lift from another friend to go do some totally not dubious activity, nothing suspicious here, coppers!

"Not that it's not great to see you, but I was expecting someone a bit more... old and cantankerous."

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?"

Look, as far as interactions with Nacho go, there's been no threat to his bodily integrity or any other sort of violence, so Jimmy is inclined to keep a bright outlook on it all. For his own peace of mind, partially. Nacho's no Salamanca, he knows that well, but it's not as if Nacho would refuse violence if it became necessary.

"Busy, yeah. Lucky for him I owe him one," he scoffs, as if the idea of Mike suddenly having anything come up that could affect his schedule is just unthinkable. He's probably getting some award for biggest sticker stickler in the entire parking lot security firm, if anything.

But, noticing Nacho hasn't started driving yet, he follows the other man's gaze, frowning a bit as he notices just how busy it really is out there.

"Some unholy combination of wrong place wrong time and Murphy's law. Two soccer moms on their way to a mani-pedi got in a fender bender, and I don't think even Albuquerque's finest want to mediate that."

Fortunately for Jimmy, if Nacho is getting violent with anyone today, it won't be Jimmy. If anything, he's more likely to get violent to protect Jimmy, not hurt him. But he hopes he won't have to do even that.

The other man's wariness evokes mixed emotions. Nacho doesn't like hurting people, physically or emotionally, and it doesn't bring him any joy to have an innocent (or, in Jimmy's case, maybe "innocent" is putting it strongly; relative innocent, then) afraid of him.

But there's a certain respect that people give you when they're aware of what you can do to fuck them up. With brute force or otherwise. Nacho likes that. The respect. The ability to be listened to without argument or protest. The knowing someone isn't going to try to screw you over. And in the world he comes from, brute strength by itself isn't enough to win you that kind of deference, but it's an essential ingredient to getting any kind of real respect.

Jimmy doesn't seem like he's cut from the same cloth, though, so Nacho tries to loosen up a little. Relax. Let some of the tension out, so Jimmy feels more at ease.

Tries. Nacho and loosening up don't go hand-in-hand. But a flicker of amusement crosses his face at Jimmy's description of soccer moms.

"Right." He exhales through his nose. "So... what do we do?" he asks, almost hopefully. Like Jimmy will have the answer.

Edited 2023-04-24 17:11 (UTC)

Improvisation is one of Jimmy's strong suits. And while he had been planning to meet Mike today, if Nacho is on board as his replacement, he's not going to complain exactly. ...Well, he might give Mike a bit of a hard time later for his lack of courtesy call, but that's for Mike to deal with. He's got no problem with Nacho, and optimistically considers the two of them on good enough standing. He's going to choose to believe Nacho feels the same, given that nothing bad has happened yet.

But rather than immediately answer his question of how to proceed, he regards Nacho a bit curiously. His relation with Mike is something Jimmy hadn't expected, really. He knows Mike knows some guys, and that he's running around in similar circles, but somehow it didn't ever occur to him that those two knew each other.

"I didn't know you and Mike were, uh, colleagues, so to speak."

Saul Goodman | Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul

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