She's striding through the hall, pissed like only Jessie can get pissed at Walt, at least openly. Mike is standing by when she bursts into the wood-paneled office, marching straight to Walt's desk. Here we go, Mike thinks.
"You did it, didn't you," she seethes, breathing hard. "Don't try to deny it!"
Walt gazes at her from his chair, and no one moves. Mike's lost count of the number of times Jessie and Walt have fought in public. She's the only one who could start a public fight with a six-state drug kingpin and walk away without a scratch.
"Everyone leave us," Walt orders calmly, still regarding Jessie. The two stay frozen, eyes battling, Walt silent, Jessie heaving, as the guards file out. Mike waits til last, watching the two until he steps out and closes the thick mahogany door.
Outside he can year Jessie's yells transition to more normal tones until he can't make out even a whisper of the conversation. It's always like this. Eventually Jessie will storm out, still furious, and everyone will go back to work, including Jessie herself.
Sometimes Mike finds himself wondering at their relationship. How, he asks himself, could the most powerful - and most image-controlling - drug lord of the southwest allow himself to be yelled at by an upstart pipsqueak, a girl who shouldn't even be in this business in the first place? Any one else would have been shot (or more quietly done away with) long ago.
But this time's different. A scream breaks out and Mike shoves his way back into the office to see Jessie holding a shaking gun at Walt and looking terrified. Mike whips out his own weapon. Fond as he is of Jessie, it is his job to take out threats just like the one she is right now.
But Walt has the situation under control, like he always does. He's speaking lowly and slowly, backing Jessie up against a wall. She's almost crying, and Mike can see from across the room that Walt has a snowball's chance in hell of getting shot right now. She'll capitulate any second, which is what keeps Mike from even pulling his own weapon. The other guys crowd in the doorway, taking their lead from him.
"…you owe me an apology, Jessie," Walt is saying. He's using that tone that Mike doesn't hear him use often, except with her. Commanding, authoritative, but soft, compelling. "You ruined a full 14 percent of last week's batch."
Jessie shakes her head, crying for real now but still holding the gun between them as if it's actually a threat. "Come on," she says, pleading. "You know we've got more than enough to keep us going this week."
"That's not the point, Jessie," Walt switches smoothly into his teacher voice. "Quotas are set for a reason." The rest is drowned out as he leans in and talks in her ear, invading her space. Finally the capitulation Mike's been waiting for hits and she shoves the handgun into Walt's chest, dodging him and storming out of the room, tears sliding down her face.
Walt turns to Mike, idly examining the gun in his hand. "Make sure she gets home okay."
Everyone goes back to work. Mike never even found off what set her off this time.