Well, that's unusual, isn't it? That kind of cash?
Hey, I ain't doin' him! He's a kid!
Uh, Hank, do you need another beer?
I will. Thank you, Carmen.
I don't know. I mean, for what it's worth, Hugo just doesn't strike me as a thief.
I need support. Me. The almost-40-year-old pregnant woman with the surprise baby on the way. And the husband with the lung cancer who disappears for hours on end, and I don't know where he goes. And he barely even speaks to me anymore. With the moody son who does the same thing. And the overdrawn checking account. And the lukewarm water heater that leaks rusty-looking crap and is rotting out the floor of the utility closet, and we can't even afford to fix it. But, OH, I see! Now I'm supposed to go, “Hank, please, what can I possibly do to further benefit my spoiled, kleptomaniac, bitch sister who somehow always manages to be the center of attention?” Because God knows she's the one with the really important problems!
No, Hank, you can't just bring up ‘secret cellphone’ and then drop it. What does it mean?
So what are you saying? I shot someone? With, like, a gun?
I'm sure it is, and I wanna hear it, but first we gotta kick Pinkman loose.
Hey, white boy, my name's Tortuga. You know what that means?
Gentlemen, I sense you're discussing my client. Anything you care to share with me?
Skyler, I think we need to think about what's best for the baby, and I think having her mother around for at least the first few years... Money-wise, we'll manage. I promise you that.
She's divorcing me.
I'm not trying to step on your toes, bro. Okay? I'm just worried about you. That's all.
I don't know. He looked pretty normal. You know, um, white... Um, I think his hair was a lightish brown. He had really blue eyes. They were really, really blue.
After what happened last time, it would make perfect sense for you to not wanna go back.
I need you to listen very carefully. Two men are coming to kill you. ... They're approaching your car. You have one minute.
You can do this, Hank. Come on, it's supposed to hurt. Pain is weakness leaving your body.
That's good, keep talking. Protest. Struggle.
Wow. You were so strong today. Did you work up an appetite? I'm sure that you did. Listen, I was thinking about cooking tonight, so—
“...and from time to time, Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.” It's a poem by Walt Whitman. Your W.W.
Hank, is it possible that maybe, just maybe, he's not your guy?
A-E-F. A-E-I-O-U. A-B-C.
You'd be overseeing every case in the office, so you'd need to reassign all your day-to-days, Fring included. Much as I hate losing a good field man, that's the job, and you'd need to be okay with it. What do you say, Hank? You want it?
You'll help me out, right, Uncle Hank, now that you run the D.E.A.?
Now, I don't know what it is you find so interesting about my client, and I'm not here to judge. Different strokes and all. But sadly, he's just not that into you. So, I have filed for a temporary restraining order against the D.E.A. on behalf of Mr. Ehrmantraut.
Hey, hey. I got plenty you don't know.
Even if somehow you were able to convince anyone that I was capable of doing these things, you and I both know I would never see the inside of a jail cell. I'm a dying man who runs a car wash. My right hand to God, that is all that I am... What's the point?
Miss you? Like my balls miss jock itch, maybe.
I hate to admit it, but I think the kid is right. There is no physical evidence, not that I heard.
How about it, Hank? Should I let you go?
Hank, listen to me. You gotta tell him... You gotta tell him now that we can work this out. Please. Please.