[Mike is sitting at a diner when Hector Salamanca walks in and approaches his booth.]
Mind if I join you?
[Hector sits across from Mike. Fran, the waitress, comes to the booth.]
Hi. What can I get you?
Coffee, black.
It's coming right up.
[Fran leaves. Hector observes the bruises on Mike's face left by Tuco.]
Mmm. He really did a number on you.
Sorry, I know you?
The young man who did that to you is my nephew. Hothead, always has been. He thinks he's a boxer. He should have shown you respect. I apologize to you on behalf of my family.
Apology accepted.
And you know what? He should go to jail. Best thing for him, teach him respect for his elders. But not for eight years. Less, much less.
[Fran comes back to pour Hector's coffee.]
You see where I'm getting at?
Not really.
The gun charge, that's eight years he's going away, maybe ten. Aggravated assault, the gun, plus he got your wallet.
That's right.
I would like for you to tell the police that the gun was yours.
Would you?
Eh, you're both a little hot under the collar about whether you bump his car or not, but there was a scuffle and uh, he got your gun.
My gun?
Your gun from your pocket, he got it and that's how his prints got on it.
Then I'd be subject to the gun charge.
You're an ex-cop. They go easy on you.
So, you're a psychic.
I even twist Tuco's ear, make him apologize, and he serves for battery, nothing else. [beat] I'm looking for the best possible outcome for everybody... and, for your trouble, you take home $5,000.
[Hector rises from his seat, leaves a tip, and begins to walk away]
Think about it.
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