[It doesn't feel like a choice. It feels like a hard-won battle. Mr. White's the only one who can control Jesse's natural psychosis, the only one capable of talking sense into him when he's waving a gun around, chasing after invisible enemies over imagined slights. That he can function so well now, blend in with normal people, is entirely because of Mr. White's guidance. No one in Jesse's life has been able to do this much for him.
But he doesn't really know how to express any of that. He just gives Walt's shoulder one last squeeze and draws away.]
[ Walt is already on the cusp of sleep as Jesse's telling him to rest. A little liquor persuasion in combination to the physical exhaustion meant he had no chance of fighting it off. But after Jesse announces that he'll be right outside, Walt mumbles sleepily in response: ]
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But he doesn't really know how to express any of that. He just gives Walt's shoulder one last squeeze and draws away.]
Get some sleep. I'll be right outside.
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Goodnight, son...
[ And he's out. ]