WORKING FOR THE KNIFE ─── jesse pinkman

iv. ALBUQUERQUE'S KITCHEN!

ACT ONE. a waitress, a meth dealer and a teacher walk into a meth lab!
CHAPTER iv. ❛ ALBUQUERQUE'S KITCHEN! ❜

september 28th, 2008.
albuquerque, new mexico.

       "YEAH, YEAH, NOTHING BUT COWS!" JESSE PINKMAN DECLARES from the peak of detritus he was currently standing upon. He used the height of the sand for a scouting opportunity in order to scan their surroundings. Just to make sure there were no secret DEA bunkers in the middle of the desert. And when Jesse was certain the coast was clear, he turned to his newfound partners. August stared back at him, shielding her eyes from the New Mexico sun. "Got some big cow house way out that way, like two miles, but I don't see nobody."

August furrowed her eyebrows. "Cow house?"

       "Yeah, where they live. The cows," Jesse shrugged. The girl's frowning didn't cease and he only sighed. "Whatever. Yeah, let's cook here."

"Cow house," Mr. White mocked in disbelief. "God help me."

        As Jesse leapt down from the desert hill and strolled over towards the RV, August made sure to keep her distance. Since yesterday's revelation, to say it had been awkward would be an understatement. In fact, it had been painfully uncomfortable for the pair of them. Whilst each glance he stole from August Hendrix reminded him of his mistakes, each glance she stole from Jesse Pinkman reminded her of his betrayal. But staying away was quite literally impossible now after making the bizarre decision to become meth dealers. Especially now: cramped together in a tiny RV in the middle of absolute nowhere. Talk about forced proximity. But soon the two are sharing a disturbed glance when they spot their senior partner. As it turns out, he planned to make things that much more uncomfortable. From the door of the RV, the fifty-year old man had bent over and stripped down into what could only be described as...tighty-whiteys, hanging up the rest of his clothes onto his 'bring your wardrobe to work day' coat hangers.