So it all starts out with Walt stalking through his own house like a Lioness hunting for an antelope, only to discover his living room now smells like a Shell Station and Jesse is nowhere to be found.
Jesse's car is still out front with a disc perched on the dashboard...smeared with a white, powdered residue.
Once again, Bryan Cranston is frantic and in his tighty whiteys and all seems right with the world again.
Skylar and the kids come home and don't buy Walt's "pump malfunction" story for a second. They chalk it all up to being sick again and Heisenberg gets away with yet another life-threatening instance.
As soon as Saul whips out the Old Yeller reference I can feel the foreshadowing deep in my bones.
"Are you telling me that he tried to burn our house down?"
Skylar takes her cues from Cersei Lannister now.
Oh I get it now- we had Walt's perspective and now we get Jesse's.
HANK?!
HANK!
HANK.
Somebody sedate me.
Marie's in therapy "There's nothing to be done."
...Until she gets home and Jesse is crashing at Chateau Schrader.
"Is this is bad for Walt? Great, I'm staying. I'll heat up lasagna."
I was really hoping Junior would push Walt into the pool instead of going in for a hug. A girl can dream, can't she?
Back at Hank and Marie's place- Hell has apparently frozen over.
Let's just look at this scene for a hot second.
Jesse in Hank's living room.
Drinking coffee out of a DEA mug.
Marie handing him said mug.
That absolutely horrendous purple shag carpet.
A tripod and a video camera.
Can I ask WHAT THE HELL is with all of these confessionals? This isn't an episode of The Real World, put the cameras away guys.
Jesse agrees to meet up with Walt and wear a wire courtesy of Hank and Agent Gomez.
After spotting a suspicious thug near the meeting point, we get a sweet aerial shot that looks so much like a SIMS/ Rollercoaster Tycoon view, I felt like I should be purchasing virtual furniture to fill the negative space.
ja feel? |
A threatening phone call is made and bing bang boom Walt hired a hit man to kill Jesse.
I can't. |
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