[ Jesse squeezes his eyes shut as Andyr's knuckle brushes away that lone tear from his cheek, and the action of closing his eyes serves to do nothing except make tears welled up in both his eyes to spill out.

It does matter. It matters. Gale wasn't a Tuco, or a rival dealer using kids to sell meth, or a Gus, or a fucking Heisenberg. He was just Gale. The innocent guy who got caught in the crossfire. The problem dog that had to be put down simply because he was a problem. A problem that needed to be dealt with. ]

S-So, I'm-I'm s'posed to just-- [ His voices hitches. He has to pause to try and force himself back under control. Managing to steel himself, his voice is strained and wavering, clipped with a raw anger: ] So, I'm s'posed to just forget about it? Just carry on living here like nothing happened? 'Cause it doesn't matter?