send me a postcard, drop me a line

[lazyinlove]

"You've got Stan. Check the number and dial again."

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[lazyinlove]

[Words are still caught in his throat, and maybe partly because he doesn't know what to say. Instead he finds himself throwing a quick jab at Jesse's shoulder, the sort of response that usually goes along with mild disagreements or unexpected insults. He's not even sure why he just did that until he remembers to remind himself again that he's mad at Jesse.

Oh. Right. Well, it wasn't a very hard punch anyway. He's not the kind of guy that throws his weight into those things, not unless he really means business. Right now all he wants is some kind of reassurance. Which it sort of provides, during that very brief moment where his knuckles connect. Jesse is solid and warm. Alive. There. Probably even real.Stan sighs in relief and drops his face into his knees. He surprises himself again with the next breath.]

Just stop disappearing, okay?

[hostage]

[It's fine. He kind of expected that one, maybe along with some yeah rights and I'll believe it when I see its. That remorseful look doesn't leave his face.]

Okay.

[lazyinlove]

[No matter how frequently people lie to Stan, -Jesse included according to everyone else- he still defaults to trusting people. It takes a lot to shake his faith in someone, so it's easy for him to believe that Jesse really means it this time. Sure, there have been ups and downs...and downs...and downs. But dying, that's got to leave a lasting impression, right? Of course Jesse's going to quit now. He fucking well better.

The easy agreement helps. It's reassuring. Whatever happened last month, right now Jesse wants to live. It's enough to get Stan to peek between his knees at the dude, trying to assess him. He doesn't look great, but when does he ever? E looks good enough, probably. That's fine.]

What do you need?