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[No, but he very well might have one right now.

BUT OH HEY, LOOK. There's a spot on his arm? And he needs to look at it? And maybe pick at it a little? Because it's so much more interesting than looking at her? Maybe it's the start of a rare disease? Maybe he's dying?

Maybe.]

No, doctor. I'm fine. Eat your breakfast.

[And he'll just politely excuse himself to go fetch the coffee.]

I'm more a nurse than anything.

[Don't imagine a naughty nurse costume involved in this scenario, Saul, just don't do it.

Even though she's grinning at him like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

But okay, she takes a moment to rearrange everything so she can keep Mike at bay while she eats her pancakes, and they are actually pretty delicious, even if one of them looks like it shouldn't be allowed near children. Also boozy syrup: what a good idea, thanks, Remy.]

[He would absolutely never do such a thing. Ever.

Except for maybe right now, when the thought almost has him trip over his own feet in the hallway.

Then comes a shout from the kitchen:] How do you take your coffee?

Black, two sugars!

[Sometimes it's three, but since she's currently eating pancakes covered in syrup, she figures she should behave.

Now that she's actually started eating, she's realizing how hungry she is, and is making quick work of the pancakes when she's not defending them from Mike. Who she might be having a conversation with about how pancakes aren't good for cats so she's not allowed any. Nevermind that Mike can't understand her.

(What a dork.)]

[And that one time, it was five.

Saul returns with two mugs in-hand and pauses in the doorway, staring at Steph like she's lost her mind while Mike mews in protest.

So he's not the only one who has extended conversations with his cat, huh?]

Am I interrupting something?

[Shush.]

No! [Looking like he's caught her doing something terrible, and she holds a finger up in front of Mike as if to silence her, which only results in a meow and Mike biting Steph's finger.] You're a terrible co-conspirator.

[Steph stop talking to the cat.

Also the conversation definitely wasn't drifting to Steph's plans to kidnap Mike.]

[See, that's Saul's concern: that she won't even have to kidnap Mike, because she's just going to want to go home with her new human bestie after all this.

Saul purses his lips and offers Steph the mug.]

You better not be trying to recruit my cat to the dark side.

[She sets the empty plate on the nightstand before accepting the coffee, smiling up at Saul as she curls her fingers around the mug.

Coffee is even better than pancakes.]

I'm already making her a cape.

[Steph no.]

Yeah?

[WAIT FOR IT...]

Are you also gonna make her —

[Pause. He takes a sip from his mug.]

A catsuit?

[.....

She laughs way harder than she should, carefully clutching her mug so that it doesn't spill even as she's kind of hanging her head and laughing.]

Oh my god. [that was awful] Get out.

[Steph it's his room.]

[Well, okay. If she insists.

He shrugs and walks out.

WHAT NOW, STEPH?]

[WHATEVER!!!

She has Mike, who is cuter than Saul, for the record.

But really she just sighs and clambers out of bed, ignoring Mike's protests, picking up her plate in one hand and holding the mug in the other as she heads into the kitchen so she can put the dirty dishes in the sink.

Then she'll go find Saul.]

[For the record, Mike is the cutest thing in the universe.

Steph won't have to look far; Saul's already in the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up at the sink. 509 policy dictates that He Who Makes the Mess Shall Clean It. This may be a swingin' bachelor pad, but that doesn't mean it has to be filthy. And Saul is fussy, right? So he likes to clean up immediately.

When Steph appears, he grins wryly at her.]

Look who finally got outta bed.

[She'd help, but she's got a mug of coffee that she wants to drink, and it's nice to just not worry about things for a little while.]

I could've gotten up earlier if I wanted to.

[So insulted!!!

Whatever, Saul, she's just going to finally take a sip of her coffee and, uh.

Well, it's the first time she's had good coffee since Baltimore, and the sound she makes may or may not be a whimper.]

Where did you get this?

[She needs to know.]

[steph r u ok]

...what?

[WAIT, NO. His brain is back on-line. He knows what she said.]

Oh, uh. A friend gave it to me. No idea where she got it, though.

[brb pressing her face into the mug and inhaling slowly. No one should look that blissful about coffee.]

God.

[Steph

Stop.]

That's not fair, why do you get good coffee?

[Saul had the same moment too, but in private.

He promptly turns his attention to the dishes. Yup. Dishes. So fun.]

Because I'm charming.

[Yeah well.]

I can be charming!

[No she can't.]

[If he wanted to be an actual jerk toward Steph, he'd toss a skeptical look her way. He does think she's charming, though, in her own way that maybe only works on him.

What he does instead is flash her one of his insincere-but-convincing lawyerly smiles, chin tilted down slightly, one eyebrow up.]

Not as charming as me.

[She makes a face at him.]

You're misprouncing smarmy.

[Wow]

Am I supposed to be offended by that?

[He flicks some water at her.]

Well it sure wasn't a compliment.

[Excuse you, sir.

She takes a step back, coffee clutched protectively to her chest as if a tiny bit of water might ruin it.]

It's not smarm, okay? My ancestors call it chutzpah.

[Technically, neither of them are positive adjectives.

But Saul's been called way worse.]

Do those even mean the same sort of thing?

[Judging him so hard as she sips her coffee.]

Sort of.

[Not really.

Maybe.

In some contexts...?

He flicks more water at her, this time aiming directly for the mug.]

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I lost a w

saul lost two /sad trombone

what does that even mean

walter white...?

o-oh.... slowly drops head into hands

pets

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