Back inside, Walt's mopping the floor of the last of Victor's blood. Then, in a transition that's so intentionally over-the-top gross it becomes funny, the blood-soaked mop swirling around the blood becomes someone swirling a French fry in ketchup at the local Denny's. Bon appétit! Jesse and Walt sit at another booth, in their matching Kenny Rogers t-shirts and white jeans -- guess the clothes with Victor's blood on them had to go. I like to think that these hideous matching ensembles were picked out with extreme spite by Mike himself. Jesse gets to work on his mega Grand Slam breakfast -- clearly his catatonia of a few hours ago has been replaced by an equally disturbing return to normalcy. Walt is now the one who can't seem to function. He asks Jesse how he's going and gets a non-verbal, "It is what it is," reaction. Ugh, this poor kid. Walt then asks about what their next move should be, considering that Gus is going to try to kill them at the next opportunity. Jesse -- speaking without his usual bitch-and-yo dialect -- says this morning was a pretty damned good opportunity, and Gus didn't take it. He's not going to be able to find another chemist to replace Walt -- not someone who he can trust with the product and knows will keep his mouth shut. "Bet it took him years to find Gale," he says. "Bet he's sorry now," he adds, with a dark laugh that lands like a sharp stick to Walt's side.
"At least now we all understand each other," Jesse continues, pantomiming his knife across his throat for added effect. He's right, too. In the last 48 hours -- or however long ago Walt murdered the two dealers before they could kill Jesse -- each of these three men have killed in order to preserve their little fucked-up business arrangement. "We're all on the same page," Jesse says, darkly. "The one that says, 'If I can't kill you, you'll sure as shit wish you were dead." He laughs a mirthless laugh and takes a big ol' bite of pancake. Looks like another season in hell for Jesse Pinkman.
A cab drops Walt off at home -- Skyler's home, not condo home -- and within like 2.5 second, Skyler's out on the driveway. She explains parking the car three blocks away, notes his weirdo new clothes, and peels off the size sticker that's been on his shoulder this whole time. No questions about where he's been, just a quiet, "You okay?" "Right as rain" is Walt's unconvincing reply. Walt begins his three-block trek to find his car, holding up his ill-fitting pants as he walks.