Misc.

better call saul 2

1-

it was pouring rain, and you were lying on the street outside el michoacano. someone was digging their boot into your stomach. 

each blow hurt more than the last, and you regretted not just giving the boys the money they wanted in the first place. pain shot up your jaw as a shoe connected with it. was this your fault? god no, it couldn't be, but then again, what if it was? you held your head and prayed that they wouldn't hit your face again. hell, you wanted them to hit nothing again. panic coursed through you like a rogue wave and you kept whimpering, begging for them to leave you alone. you wanted them to stop, but beggars cant be choosers now, can they. 

somewhere in the distance, you heard a door jingle open, but only barely. the rain was too loud, and your head ached. the ringing in your ears refused to subside, there was only blood mixed with tears and dirt, and a dull ache that pervaded your entire body. a moment later the boys took off, and you realized someone was screaming at them. you cared so little, just wanting to go to sleep, just wanting to close your eyes, make all of this go away. just make all of the pain stop, if even for a fleeting moment. you shifted so that you were on your back, and let the rain pour down on you. the sidewalk had never felt so comfortable and you allowed yourself to drift off. 

you heard someone running over, and perhaps that was a hand on your shoulder, another cradling the back of your head, but none of it mattered now, you were going to sleep and no one could stop you. the dark had never felt more blissful in your life.

-

when you woke no more than an hour later, you found yourself in a booth inside the restaurant you presumed you had been outside of when the boys had mugged you. everything hurt, and it took you a moment to process that there was someone tending to a scrape on your arm. 

"well, good morning." a voice said, rather cheery for the circumstances. a man no older than forty-five was cleaning off a scrape on your arm with a cotton ball drenched in rubbing alcohol. the sleeves on his button down were rolled up and he had the nicest bit of facial hair you'd ever seen. his hair was well tended to, and you finally met dark brown eyes looking up at you and a smile you couldnt quite pinpoint with any one intention.

instinctively, you pulled your arm back, sitting up more and standing, defensive and ready to run away.

"what are you doing?" you asked. "where am i?"

there were exactly two other men in the restaurant, both sitting closer to the door than you were, and for a split second you worried they might be guards who wouldn't let you out if you tried. 

the man put up a hand to reassure you.

"hey, hey, hey, it's okay, we're cool. i picked you up outside. couldn't just leave you lying out there in the rain now could i?" he explained, carefully taking your arm back so he could finish bandaging the scrape, with the same gentility someone treats a startled puppy. you let him. he continued speaking.

"they weren't very nice to you, those boys, got you pretty good. i'll reimburse you for the money they took."

"what? no, that's- that's okay, you don't have to..." 

"oh hey, it's no trouble. no trouble at all. it's only right."

"what's your name?" you asked, maybe a little cautious. he stared at you for a second and you could have sworn fifty different emotions and thoughts flashed across his eyes.

"eduardo," he said eventually. "but you can call me lalo."

2- 

you'd kept in touch with lalo. he'd given you his number upon your leaving the restaurant, insisting you call him the following day so he could make sure you were doing alright. you made the painful, painful assumption that he seemed to be quite the morally upright citizen.