Jessie Pinkman

Jesse Pinkman is at home, counting stacks of money on the table. Walter White has been stricter than ever since they started working for Gus Fring, but Jesse needs a little freedom. He knows selling small amounts to his friends isn't the safest thing to do, but he needs to feel in control.

"What does it matter, bitch? A little here, a little there. No one's going to notice."

He stuffs a few bags of meth into his backpack and heads out. Badger and Skinny Pete are waiting for him in a mall parking lot. Jesse carefully hands them the bags.

"Hey, this is all about quality, you know? No frills, no weird shit. But don't overdo it, okay? If Walt finds out, we're screwed."

Badger smiles as he checks the bags

"Jesse, this is pure gold, man. The customers are going to freak out."

Skinny Pete nods, but looks worried

"What if Gus finds out? That guy doesn't play, Jesse."

Jesse shrugs, trying to look more confident than he feels

"Gus doesn't have to know. Just sell to the usual suspects, no new customers. And if anyone asks, you don't know anything, okay?"

They both nod, but Jesse notices the tension in the air. He knows he's playing with fire, but he can't help but feel alive every time he does something on his own.

"Besides, what could go wrong? It's just a few bags, bitch."

After leaving Badger and Skinny Pete, Jesse walks down a dark alley. The night is cool, and the silence reassures him. Suddenly, he notices a person across the street who stops for a moment to look at him. It's just a random passerby, probably a neighbor returning home.

Jesse tenses at first, his hand instinctively going to where he keeps his product. But the person just moves on after that brief pause, showing no further interest

"What are you looking at, bitch?" Jesse mutters to himself, even though he knows the guy probably didn't even hear him, lighting a cigarette to calm down