( Shit, okay. That actually worked; the guy is actually backing the hell up. Sometimes -- a lot of the time -- Jesse's blowfish act of trying to seem a way tougher than he really is does absolute jack. After all, Jesse Bruce Pinkman is nothing more than a tweaker who puffs his skinny ass self up two, three, five times his figurative size, with nothing more than a whole lot of bullshit hot air and a fuck ton of fronting. But whatever works. Especially right now. Because that guy has a knife and Jesse has jack shit. No gun, nothing. Just a lighter. And maybe a meth pipe to glass the guy with. That's it.
Jesse watches the guy abstract himself right to the door. Still pressed back against the bed head, he stares watchful, mistrusting daggers at the guy, listens to what the guy says. Keeping very still, he follows the gesturing knife to the letter over on the other bed with his eyes, then whips them back onto the dude. A pause while he considers his next move carefully because it's going to be Hobo Guy = 1, Jesse = 0 if that guy comes at him with that knife.
Fuck it. With a sudden scramble, Jesse launches himself off the bed and he lunges an arm out to slap his hand onto the letter, ripping it off the bed so he can look. This high strung rabbit guy can read, thank you very much. And as he reads it, his forehead bunches into a bewildered frown. )
...The fuck...? ( He snaps a quick puzzled look up at the guy, then back to the letter. ) "The door will open easily if offered a bit of blood"...? "A handprint's worth will do...?" Uhhhhh, ( looking back up to the guy, ) this has gotta be some kinda joke, right? Some kinda, like, prank or somethin'. Right? Like Punk'd? Are we bein' filmed right now? Hidden cameras and shit?
( Snapping his head up to dart a look all around the corners of the room, the light fixture, the walls, for evidence of hidden cameras. )
no subject
Jesse watches the guy abstract himself right to the door. Still pressed back against the bed head, he stares watchful, mistrusting daggers at the guy, listens to what the guy says. Keeping very still, he follows the gesturing knife to the letter over on the other bed with his eyes, then whips them back onto the dude. A pause while he considers his next move carefully because it's going to be Hobo Guy = 1, Jesse = 0 if that guy comes at him with that knife.
Fuck it. With a sudden scramble, Jesse launches himself off the bed and he lunges an arm out to slap his hand onto the letter, ripping it off the bed so he can look. This high strung rabbit guy can read, thank you very much. And as he reads it, his forehead bunches into a bewildered frown. )
...The fuck...? ( He snaps a quick puzzled look up at the guy, then back to the letter. ) "The door will open easily if offered a bit of blood"...? "A handprint's worth will do...?" Uhhhhh, ( looking back up to the guy, ) this has gotta be some kinda joke, right? Some kinda, like, prank or somethin'. Right? Like Punk'd? Are we bein' filmed right now? Hidden cameras and shit?
( Snapping his head up to dart a look all around the corners of the room, the light fixture, the walls, for evidence of hidden cameras. )