#dxmagedtwo

[steavia]

lydia enjoys her meetings here whenever she’s in albuquerque — honestly, just getting to see her friend gus is the reason she doesn’t mind the commute between states. once she parts ways with fring and leaves that meeting, though, she is greeted with a surprising amount of free time.

she doesn’t usually tend to strike up conversations, but when she catches sight of a young man (he appears ten or so years younger than herself) she decides to mix things up a little and approach @dxmagedtwo.

“uh, hi there. you’re from albuquerque, i’m guessing—” it he isn’t, this will be an embarrassing start, but she continues nevertheless. “do you happen to know any good restaurants here, or possibly coffee shops?”

[facepeeled]

plotted starter | @dxmagedtwo

she hated dealing with heisenberg. badger and skinny pete were cool guys-- she liked getting high with them, playing first person shooters, crashing on their couch. so when they offered her a way to make some extra cash, selling the purest meth she'd ever smoked, she jumped on the opportunity. thought it'd be all up hill from there, nothing but stacks of cash, bags of crystal, and maybe even a house of her own one day. she was real optimistic. until she met their boss.

heisenberg was a total dick. a hard ass, condescending know it all in a pork pie hat. but he was a genius, she knew that much from the high his product gave her. she couldn't resist sampling the shit. what'd he expect from a junkie? she just hoped he didn't notice her bag was light. she might've done a little more than she'd intended to.

they were meeting for more product, all of them, in the middle of nowhere. she was nervous, paranoid, but that might've been because she was high. she handed over the wad of dirty bills she'd made from the last week, avoiding eye contact. something about him reminded her of her daddy. something about him was terrifying. "it's all there," she lied, playing coy.

[thundcrbird-blog]

@dxmagedtwo

   “---Look, I may be part ‘a the cartel business. Might carry a gun. That ain’t mean y’ gotta treat me like a damn thug. Hell, y’ ought’a count yer blessin’s-- weren’t fer me, you’da been shot dead by now.” There’s a pause. “Last I checked, you ain’t any less criminal than th’ rest of us. Best keep that in mind.”