Misc.

better call saul 8

tw intoxication, dubious consent

you didn't wanna sound like some 50s suburban white guy, but jesus christ, that was a long fucking day.

your body ached, and all you really wanted to do was get high and go to bed, and you didn't waste any time getting those things done. 

you changed out of your work clothes and grabbed the joint you'd been keeping in your desk drawer. 

there were also pills you'd been saving in the bathroom cabinet and you decided this was a good a time as any to take them. 

anything so long as it didn't mean having to think. 

-

it was cathartic how the anxiety and tension in your shoulders melted away. the smoke from the joint smelled like citrus and pine and you held it in your lungs before breathing out eloquently. 

it was quiet; only a few cars drove by your apartment complex. crickets chirped somewhere in the background but your head had already began buzzing and you didn't pay much attention to it. it was nice, the quiet. so much more manageable that being around people all day, the noises of corporate work echoing in your head, like some sort of fucked up lullaby that refused to be quelled. 

a patio door shoved open.

glancing up, you saw lalo salamanca looking down at you from his third floor balcony. you knew him well enough. well enough to know that he was renting his apartment temporarily after finding himself in albuquerque on a "business trip", anyways. he was nice too. he let you into the building once when you were too drunk to find your keys, and made good conversation when you ran into him in the halls. 

"hey chico, are you smoking?" he called down. you glanced up, scrunching your nose.

"yeah. what's it to you?"

"you're smoking and you don't invite me?" 

"ok well- no one's stopping you." you called back up to him. he stared at you for a second, completely silent, then:

"don't go anywhere." 

a minute later, the front door of the building opened and lalo came walking out. you were visibly already on another planet and lalo couldn't help but laugh. 

"oh, cosita ingenua.(oh, you naive little thing.)" he said.  

"what?" you asked him, not understanding a lick of spanish. 

"don't worry about it. hey- gimme that," lalo said, taking to joint from your fingers and taking a long drag. you watched him through a haze of brain fog and fatigue. 

"i didn't know you smoked," he said. you took the joint back and took your own turn. 

"right back atcha," you mumbled. lalo watched you, his eyes flickering across your face and hands. for a very brief second, you wondered what he was thinking, but it was almost immediately overshadowed by the buzz still going strong in your head. you zoned out, staring at the ground, head completely empty. 

the joint fell from your hand and landed unceremoniously on the ground.

"awe man..." you pouted, picking it up. it had gone out and you fumbled with your lighter, struggling to light it again. 

lalo hadn't moved this entire time, and was still watching you failing to light the joint. 

"jesus christ, chico, come here," he said, taking the joint from you and lighting it himself. "mouth. open. now." he told you once it was lit properly again. lalo took a lung-full breath of smoke and before you had any say in the matter, he was cupping your face and shotgunning the smoke into your mouth.