Chapter Text
Lalo and Howard stood by each other. It was a chilly desert night, yet the two weren't any bit bothered by it. No words had been exchanged in the past 30 minutes, even with both of their usual chattiness. At least, seperately they were chatty.
Something about Howard was off. Well, that was expected, of course. Howard had probably experienced some shit he'd never seen, before tonight. His eyes stared off into space, and Lalo chuckled lightly. This caught Howard's attention, and his head turned to meet his gaze.
He said nothing, though. Lalo didn't either. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, pulling a cigarette out of the pack and swiftly between his lips. His mustache audibly brushed against the butt, but he didn't care. He'd felt it time and time again.
Lighting the cigarette, he took a drag with a gracefulness and confidence that seemed to have surprised and confused Howard, with the way his eyes squinted slightly, and then he quickly turned away.
Lalo wondered what went on inside this funny little man's head.
"Hey, Howard, was it?" Lalo asks, raising an eyebrow. Howard glances quickly at Lalo, and nods very slightly, like a shaken deer. It was...en-deer-ing.
That's funny. Horrible, but funny.
Lalo nodded, and took another drag, placing the cigarette in between his left pointer and middle fingers, "Can I call you Howie?" He asked, and Howard furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"Usually—" Howard's voice croaked, and he coughed quickly to clear it, "—I haven't been called that by a...stranger before. I uh— I suppose? It wouldn't hurt..." Howard's voice trailed off, and Lalo giggled to himself. This, once again, confused Howard. Wow, he really knew nothing of how to deal with people like Lalo.
"Ay, I'm not gonna hurt you! You're inocente, what reason would I have, Howie?" He leaned back against the gate they stood in front of, looking at their car that sat parked just in front of them. It was Howard's. It was an okay car, a silly license plate, it did well when it came to getting out of Albuquerque.
Howard seemed to think for a moment, getting visibly more tense. Lalo noticed this, Howard was quite readable. Yet, somehow, Lalo found exactly what he was thinking of untraceable. A fascinating combo, which made for a good businessman. "Hey, hey, look at me," Lalo said, quickly, snapping in Howard's face.
Howard's head snapped to the side to look at Lalo, and Lalo grinned. "If I wanted to kill you," He started, leaning in a bit so he could get quieter, "I would have done so already."
For a moment, Howard froze, but when he turned his head again and followed Lalo in the movement of leaning back, Lalo noticed a small twinge of relief in his eyebrows. Still tense, just...less so.
He really wished he could know what Howard was thinking.
--
Howard traced back to the beginning.
He was fucking tired, he was angry, and he wanted Jimmy to know he was angry. He wanted Kim to know he was angry. They tried to frame him as a fucking crack addict. Luckily for them, he was the exact type of person that seems like they'd be a crack addict.
But, the figure came out. Nobody, he called himself. Howard remembers the gun to his head. The feeling of it. But no shot ever came, and he almost felt happy when Jimmy looked absolutely terrified.
He remembers standing there, in that spot, while Nobody laid out the plans for them. Laid out of plans for Jimmy to kill someone— which Jimmy handed off to Kim? Which Howard was surprised about. Why would he throw her into something like that? Until, he realized,
It was to protect her.
His heart hurt a bit.
So Kim left, Jimmy was tied up on a chair and gagged, and Howard was dragged out of the door. Told to drive. So he did, with Nobody in the passenger seat.
He remembers asking, "Who are you, really?"
Nobody just smiled at him.
Now, in the present, he knows. He remembers hearing about it, about when Jimmy apparently had helped a member of the cartel...he believed it, now. He just helped Lalo Salamanca escape Albuquerque.
And, oddly enough, Lalo doesn't want to kill him. Why not? He'd just be a witness, a liability.
He shouldn't question it, though. If he lives, he lives. That's a good thing.
"I'm surprised you made it out of there alive, Howie. Or, for that matter, didn't decide to kill both of us in that car," Nobody says, putting the cigarette back in between his lips. Howard's gotta admit, he's an attractive man. Under any other circumstance, he might have flirted with him a bit. Not too much, though. He's still married, he remembers, looking down at the empty ring on his finger.
The thought had certainly crossed his mind more times than he'd like to admit. Then again, they had always been there. It was one of the main things he struggled with, intrusive thoughts. Slitting his wrist with a kitchen knife he held, putting his head in the oven, dipping his finger into burning hot coffee...so having that imagery in his mind wasn't surprising. It was just anxiety inducing, what with the looming threat of one of the biggest drug cartel members being in the passenger seat of his car.
Howard remained silent, until he glanced back at Lalo's face. He was staring off, eyebrows slightly furrowed, cigarette held loosely between his lips. Howard moved over to take it from his mouth, taking a deep inhale.
He hadn't smoked since before he got married, so when smoke entered his lungs, he couldn't help but let out a few coughs, hearing the faint sound of giggling from where Lalo stood. His cheeks burned red from embarrassment, but it felt good to finally have a smoke after so long of going without it.
--
"I didn't know you smoked, Howie," A fox-like grin, filled with intrigue and awe.
"I haven't smoked in 20 years," A relaxed, quiet response.