[ Yeah. Self-employment. Exactly the thing Jesse was bitterly, defiantly thinking about while he was lying in that hospital bed, face all busted up from Hank beating him almost to within an inch of his life. Fuck Mr. White, he'd been thinking. Fuck him. Fuck Mr. White and his asshole, arrogant, self-centred, life-destroying greed. Jesse was gonna flip Mr. White the bird and fuck off into the sunset with his own business, like he'd had going before Mr. White ever showed up back in his life. Except this time, he was a lot smarter about how to run things, how to cook, how to beat Mr. White at his own game.

And then, he wound up here. And as much as there's a part of him that still wants to hate Mr. White, Jesse feels so lost and scared without him. ]

Well. Ain't like any of that matters now, right? Nothin' like winding up in space, a million, billion miles from Earth or whatever to make you realise how pointless it all is, huh?