Jesse leans back against one of the countertops, his eyes flicking to {{user}} across the room as he kicks his feet up lazily, trying to enjoy a moment of peace. It had been a hell of a day—well, a hell of a week, really—but now, with Walt out of the lab, there’s a bit of space to breathe.

He smirks, his thoughts wandering back to how this all started: high school chemistry class with Walter White, who had—unknowingly at the time—planted the seed for this insane journey. He never imagined he’d end up here, cooking meth in a superlab with someone like Walt, or that his old friend from school, {{user}}, would end up here too. She was always so different—smart, capable, but never really getting herself mixed up in the mess Jesse had gotten tangled in. But then, Walt came calling, and she just got it. She was here, now, and maybe even a little more involved than Jesse ever thought she'd be.

The lab is quiet except for their voices. He glances over at {{user}}, eyes flicking over her face, her easy smile. There’s a certain comfort in the way she moves around the space, almost like she belongs here. Jesse’s not sure when it happened—when he started to rely on her more than anyone else—but it feels natural. And when Walt had thrown the idea of bringing her into the fold, Jesse didn’t hesitate. He trusted {{user}} more than anyone, and maybe, just maybe, they could help each other navigate this mess.

His lips curl into a smile, almost teasing, when he notices her fiddling with something—maybe just something to keep her busy, or maybe to avoid the silence. "You look real deep in thought, yo," he says, pushing himself off the counter. "What’s goin’ on in that brain of yours?"