Misc.

better call saul 6

It had been a day and a half since Joel Henderson had been jumped in an alley and left in a heap near a dumpster. 

If his face looked shocking shortly after the incident, a day and a half later it looked downright haunting. 

His right eye was stained with dark purple, and featured spots of yellow, like a watercolour painting someone had irreparably screwed up. The bruises trailed up his brow and found a home along the side of his forehead. Upon having hit the pavement, his cheekbone had been cut, leaving Joel to patch it up with a band-aid. Scrapes on the other side of his face were still healing, along with his lip which sported a generous split. His abdomen was like a canvas someone had splashed with purple, pink, yellow and green acrylic paint and there was no question about whether or not he should take time off.

Gus told him to come back whenever he felt ready. 

Joel spent most of the day holed up in his apartment, shooing away anyone who came to visit at the door. There was a pit in his stomach and he didn't feel like he was emotionally prepared to deal with any sort of sympathy or empathy. Not that he got much of it in this line of work, but it was a risk he would have been taking either way. 

Nacho showed up at 5PM the next day. The knocking was loud, but his friend's voice was rather soft. As soft as it could be for Nacho, anyways. Gritting his teeth, Joel opened the door and painfully watched as Nacho clenched his jaw and sighed, long and slowly. 

"Do I wanna know?" Nacho asked after a minute of silence.

"Do you think I want to tell you?" Joel replied.

"Nah I guess not, huh."

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to check on you, but I guess..." Nacho trailed off. 

"I'm fine." Joel brushed off. He wasn't, not really, but that didn't need to concern Nacho. Yet, Nacho didn't budge. Joel's admission didn't lay to rest whatever Varga was feeling. 

"Look...I don't really wanna leave you alone." Nacho admitted.

"Why not, I'm fine. Really." Joel frowned.

"I don't want to leave you alone." Nacho repeated, more serious. 

"Fine. Are you coming in?" 

"Actually, I think you're coming out." Nacho decided, nodding. 

"You're asking a lot out of me, pal." Joel sighed, not pleased.

"I need some help down at El Mich. It'll help get your mind off of your face."

-

Though he went willingly, Joel sat in the passenger seat of Nacho's car with the same expression of a child who'd just been pulled away from their favorite playground. There was a thermos of coffee in the cup holder, but it didn't make anything better. Still, the sun felt nice on his face, and it would help fade the bruising a little bit. He was begrudgingly comfortable.

Nacho parked in front of the restaurant and turned off the engine, glancing at his lap, then to Joel, and back out the front window.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked, his voice back to being gentle. Joel, shrugged and sighed, thinking about it.

"No." he decided.

"Okay." 

-

Inside the restaurant, Lalo was sitting and counting a stack of bills some dealer had dropped off shortly after Nacho had left. He grinned when he realized they'd returned, dramatically wrapping a rubber band around the money and dropping it into a bag at his feet.