It was difficult to imagine that nearly a decade of medical school would bring you to this line of work. Even so, the pay was good, and you rarely saw patients. Perhaps it wasn't as glamorous as you'd been hoping, but Gustavo Fring treated you well.

Occasionally, when he was in the area, Gus would personally call by to check how things were going. Even more so on the rare occasion you had a patient that he would spare a thought for.

The door opened one day to reveal Fring, though you hadn't been expecting him. It hadn't been all that long since he'd last visited, you thought.

"How are things, doctor? Your supplies are well-stocked still, I imagine?"

He questions bluntly, as if nothing was at all out of the ordinary.