[Jesse and Walter meet after Skinny Pete gets robbed]
[hands Walter a paper bag] Your half. 15K, that's what I'm talking about. [Walter scowls at Jesse] Uh, you're welcome? Jesus!
Help me understand the math, okay? I gave you one pound, correct? You and I split $2,000 per ounce, $1,000 each. One pound - that's sixteen ounces. Sixteen ounces should net to me $16,000. Sixteen, not fifteen.
[quietly] Something came up.
One of my guys got held up by a couple junkies... lost an ounce. But it's cool, okay? Skinny Pete's cool.
Oh-ho! So you're saying that your guy got robbed–or rather, you got robbed–but, it doesn't matter. Hm?
Dude, it's called breakage, okay? Like Kmart, shit breaks.
And you're thinking this is acceptable?
It's the cost of business, yo! You're sweating me over a grand?
Hey, look, I'm just the chemist here! I'm not the street guy, yo... but it seems to me that what you call breakage is just you making a fool of yourself. I've got another technical term for you: Non-sustainable business model.
You're focusing on the negative. Six grand a day, we're making. What's your problem?
What happens when word gets out, and it's open season on these clowns you've hired, hm? Once everyone knows, that Jesse Pinkman, drug lord, can be robbed with impunity?
You think Tuco had breakage? I guess it's true, he did... he broke bones. He broke the skull of anybody who tried to rip him off.
You want another grand? Is that it?
[Jesse throws the money into Walter's car. Walter throws it back]
Look, you got fifteen thousand you didn't have yesterday! Hey, we're making bank! Shit happens! My guys get what they're up against, and they're careful. So am I, and you're all tucked in at night with your precious family. So why don't you just stop being such a freak about everything?
You got something for me?
[Skinny Pete hands Jesse a piece of paper]
Five, yo. No wait...S. No, no... Yeah, five.
Yeah? Jesus, how the hell do you spell "street" wrong? S-T-R-E-A-T?
Hey, man, I'm slingin' mad volume and fat stackin' benjis, you know what I'm sayin'? I can't be all about, like, spelling and shit.
Hers is like... I dunno, she's just his woman is all. Him, they call Spooge.
Spooge? Not Mad Dog? Not Diesel? So lemme get this straight, you got jacked by a guy named Spooge?
Yo, what's his name matter? All's I saw was that knife he stuck in my face, like, that big! But if you're looking for a reason not to go do this thing—
'Cause I'd go do it myself, right? It's just I'm on probation and all. So, you gonna do it? [Jesse nods] Good. Right on. 'Cause these two, they need to get got.
Let me just get this straight: Elliott and I offered to pay for your treatment, no strings attached–an offer which still stands, by the way–and you turn us down out of pride, whatever. And then you tell your wife that in fact we are paying for your treatment. Without our knowledge, against our will, you involve us in your lie, and you sit here and tell me that that is none of my business?
[long pause] Yeah. That's pretty much the size of it.
What happened to you? Really, Walt? What happened? Because this isn't you.
What would you know about me, Gretchen? What would your presumption about me be, exactly? That I should go begging for your charity, and you waving your checkbook around like some magic wand is going to make me forget how you and Elliott–how you and Elliott–cut me out?
What? That can't be how you see it.
It was my hard work. My research. And you and Elliott made millions off it.
That cannot be how you see it.
Oh God, that's beautifully done.
You are always the picture of innocence.
The picture of innocence. Just sweetness and light.
You left me. Fourth of July weekend, you and my father and my brothers. And I go up to our room and you are packing your bags. Barely talking. What, did I dream all that?
That's your excuse? To build your little empire on my work?
How could you say that to me? You walked away, you abandoned us. Me, Elliott...
Little rich girl, just adding to your millions.
I don't even know what to say to you. I don't even know where to begin. I feel so sorry for you, Walt.
[A norteño band has written a song about "Heisenberg"]
The city's called Duke,
The state's called New Mexico.
Among the gangsters,
The gringo's fame is inflated
'Cause of the new drug they created.
They say the color is blue
And the quality pure.
The potent drug's runnin'
Through the city,
And no one could stop it
If they wanted to.
The cartel's runnin' hot because
They weren't getting respect.
Talkin' 'bout some "Heisenberg"
Who owns the market now.
No one knows the man since
They've never seen his face.
The cartel's 'bout respect
And they ain't forgiving.
But that homie's dead,
He just doesn't know it yet.
Heisenberg's fame has got
Down to Michoacan.
From way far away
They want to taste that meth.
That blue stuff crossed the border,
Now New Mexico's livin' up to its name.
Looks just like Mexico
In all the drugs it's hiding.
Except there's a gringo boss
And he's known as "Heisenberg".
The cartel's runnin' hot because
They weren't getting respect,
Talkin' 'bout some "Heisenberg"
Who owns the market now.
No one knows the man since
They've never seen his face.
The fury of the cartel
Ain't no one escaped it yet.
But that homie's dead,
He just doesn't know it yet.
What are you talking about?
Apparently, it's all over town. Somebody crossed you, you got angry you crushed their skull with an ATM machine.
That's not how it happened.
Who cares as long as it's our competitors who believe it and not the police? Oh, my... No, don't you see how great this is? Look, you–You are a—Jesse, look at me, you are a blow fish.
A blow fish, think about it. Small in stature, not swift, not cunning, easy prey for predators. But the blow fish has a secret weapon, doesn't he? Doesn't he? What does the blow fish do, Jesse? What does the blow fish do?
I don't even know what...
The blow fish puffs up, okay? The blow fish puffs himself up four, five times larger than normal, but why? Why does he do that? Because it makes him intimidating, that's why. Intimidating so that the other scarier fish are scared off and that's you. You are a blow fish. Don't you see? It's just all–all an illusion. It's nothing but air. Now, who messes with the blow fish, Jesse?
[The DEA finds Tortuga's severed head on a turtle with the words "Hola DEA" written on it. Hank staggers back to the truck, feeling sick]
VVanco
Schrader, where you going?
E... Evidence bag... Bag...
[The other DEA agents laugh]
VVanco
What's the matter, Schrader? You act like you've never seen a severed human head on a tortoise before!
[Four DEA agents gather around the turtle]
[A hidden bomb inside the turtle explodes, blowing away three agents and blowing off Vanco's leg]
The game has changed, yo. This is our city, alright? All of it. The whole damn place. Our territory. We're staking our claim. Yo, we sell when we want, where we want. We're gonna be kings, understand? Well, I'm gonna be king and you guys will be, like, princes or dukes or something.
But first things first: We gotta get more dealers, y'know, foot soldiers, alright? Now they'll be working for you, you're working for me, and I'm working for you. You follow me? Layered, like nachos. Exponential growth. That's success, with a capital S.
Straight up, straight up.
[Everybody puts their hands in. Jesse leaves, heads outside and gets into Walter's car]
Well, we're set. Boys are ready. Gonna make some mad cheddar, yo. [pause; Walter looks at Jesse] Cheddar, Mr. White. Fat stacks. Dead Presidents. Cash money. We're gonna own this city.
We're not charging enough.
Corner the market, then raise the price. Simple economics.
[Hank is holed up in bed due to the trauma from the Tortuga bomb incident]
I have spent my whole life frightened of things that could happen, might happen, might not happen. Fifty years I spent like that. Finding myself awake at three in the morning. But you know what? Ever since my diagnosis, I sleep just fine.
And I came to realize: It's that fear, that's the worst of it. That's the real enemy. So... get up, get out in the real world, and you kick that bastard as hard as you can right in the teeth.
[Badger is sitting in an interrogation room with Getz, the plainclothes officer who arrested him]
You told me to my face you weren't a cop, man. I feel manipulated. I thought we were gonna hang out.
GGetz
We are hanging out, Badger. You like Badger or Brandon?
I like people who don't, like, abuse the Constitution.
GGetz
Badger, listen. I'm trying to help you here, man. If you just tell me who your supplier is, I think this can end very well for you.
[Saul suddenly enters the interrogation room]
[buzzer sound] What're you doin', detective? What're you doing, talking to my client without me present? You sneaky Pete! [looks at Getz] Heh, which is which? What, did the–did the academy hire you right out of the womb? You guys get younger every... [to Badger] What'd you say to Baby Face, huh? Did you say anything stupid? By anything stupid, I mean anything at all.
Oh, look at you. Mouth open, vocal chords a-twitter... We'll talk about it later. [to Getz] Right now, you. Out. Ten minutes ago. Go on. There are laws, detective. Have your kindergarten teacher read them to you, alright? Go grab a juice box, have a nap, go on. [Getz leaves] Alright, who do we have?
[looking through his files] Brandon Mayhew... Alright, Brandon Mayhew... Ah, here we go. Public masturbation.
I don't get it. What's the kick? Why don't you do it at home like the rest of us, with a big flatscreen TV, fifty channels of pay-per-view? [looks back at the file] In a Starbucks! That's nice, heh-heh.
That ain't me, man! I'm–I was the guy who was selling meth... allegedly.
[looks through his files again] Okay, alright, I gotcha. Meth. Right. Sorry, that was a little transpositional error. Nothing that a little Wite-Out can't take care of. Yeah, and uh... felony quantity.
Yeah, just barely. The cops around here are like butchers—always got their thumbs on the scales, y'know—but good luck arguing that in court. Let me get down to brass tacks: I'm gonna get you a second phone call, okay? You're gonna call your mommy or your daddy or your parish priest or your Boy Scout leader and they're gonna deliver me a check for $4,650. I'm gonna write that down on the back of my business card. [writes the amount down] Four-six-five-zero. Okay? And I need that in a cashier's check or a money order, doesn't matter—Actually, I want it in a money order... and make it out to Ice Station Zebra Associates. That's my loan-out. It's totally legit. It's done just for tax purposes. And after that, we can discuss Visa or MasterCard, but definitely not American Express, so don't even ask. Alright? Any questions?
Uh... you're gonna get me off, right?
What do I look like, your high school girlfriend? Five fingers, no waiting? [pause; Badger stares at him] That's a joke, Brandon! Lighten up! [in low voice] Son, I promise you this: I will give you the best criminal defense that money can buy.
[Walt and Jesse pull up outside Saul's strip mall office]
Sooner or later, this was gonna happen. If you want your "exponential growth", guys are gonna get busted. Simple as that.
So, how about we get him a real attorney? I mean, what the hell is this? This is who he hires?
What? You kidding me? This is the guy you want. This is the guy I'd hire.
[sarcastically] Ooh, this is the guy you'd hire.
Look, you remember Emilio? 'Kay, this dude got Emilio off, like, twice. 'Kay, both times they had him dead to rights, yo, and then "poof." Dude's like Houdini. Seriously, when the going gets tough, you don't want a criminal lawyer, alright? You want a criminal lawyer. You know what I'm saying?
[Saul finds Walter after school in the classroom]
Oh, my God! You really are a chemistry teacher! Heh-heh. Uh, you mind? [closes the door] I was terrible at chemistry. I'm more of a humanities guy.
We should talk about that. It should be much, much harder for people to track you down. My P.I. charged me for three hours, so I seriously doubt it took him more than one.
So this is what? Blackmail?
Walter, I'm your lawyer. Anything you say to me is totally privileged. I'm not in the shakedown racket. I'm a lawyer. Even drug dealers need lawyers, right? Especially drug dealers.
So what? You're just doing this out of the kindness of your heart?
C'mon. Have you seen my hourly rate? Heh-heh. Oh, by the way, where do you keep the money? Is it in your mattress? Is it in a jelly jar buried in the side yard, huh? You know, this kid Mayhew may be the first of your guys to get picked up, but he won't be the last. And if I can find you, how far behind can the cops be?
I don't understand. What exactly are you offering to do for me?
What did Tom Hagen do for Vito Corleone?
[stares at Saul perplexed while shaking his head] I'm no... Vito Corleone.
No shit! Right now, you're Fredo! But, y'know, with some sound advice and proper introductions, who knows? I'll tell you one thing: You've got the right product. Anything that gets the DEA's panties in this big a bunch, you're onto something special. And I would like to be a small and silent part of it. Food for thought, yeah? [starts to head for the door, but stops and turns around] So if you want to make more money and, uh, keep the money that you make... [taps his foot and holds his arms out with flair, pointing to Walter] Better Call Saul!
