As Jesse occupied the hard, mildly uncomfortable bench of the police station, he attempted to organize the huge swirl of emotions he had to no avail. Since he had told the cops everything he knew about the great Heisenberg, he got lucky with only six months of prison. Granted, those six months were awful and lonely, but it wasn't anything he hadn't been previously accustomed too. Before everything had fallen apart, he'd had this thought that if they ever got caught, he'd at least have Mr. White there with him; now the thought made him laugh. Not the good kind of laughter, either, more the kind that was contemptuous.
He was pulled from his musings when the clatter of metal crutches colliding with the floor echoed throughout the mostly empty hallway. As Jesse's blue oculars glanced up, he was revealed to who they belonged too: a young man with brown hair. The adolescent glanced Jesse over before moving to sit down; he had no choice but to share the seat with Jesse, seeing as there were no other benches around. He made sure to sit on the far end of the bench, though, and he concluded his movements by letting his crutches rest on the wall beside him. Jesse, unintentionally, was staring at him. This person seemed so… familiar, as if Jesse should know who he is. But, not a name came to mind, so he was only to assume is was just his mind playing tricks.
Still, this kid looked young; as in, under-twenty-years-old young. What could he have possibly done to get sent here? When Jesse thought back on his time as a teenager, a few things came to mind, but this kid was handicap. Naturally, it struck him as alien for someone in his condition, and so young, to commit a crime. "Um, do you want something?" When the boy spoke, Jesse was snapped into the horrifically embarrassing realization that he was still staring. Immediately he averted his gaze, stuttering out a lame, "Uh, no-sorry." He focused on a tile in the floor in front of him. Managing to establish his bearings once again, he subconsciously used a personality trait from Heisenberg as he spoke in a more collected tone, "I was just wondering why someone as young as you would be here, 's all."
As much as Jesse hated his late mentor, he'd picked up a lot of good tactics from him, and now was one of the times they came in handy. It was now the kid's turn to be taken off-guard, and that he was. It took him a good few seconds to answer before he mumbled, "Underage drinking." Jesse then tilted his skull back up and studied the boy. "Oh. That's tough, man. They, uh, gonna lock you up or is someone comin' to get you?"
The boy gave him a side-glance that clearly said, /is it really any of your business?/ Though, out loud, he replied with a simple, "My mom's coming." Jesse merely nodded in reply; this stranger didn't seem like he was much up for conversation, but the twenty-six-year-old figured that if he was having to be bailed out by his mom he wouldn't wanna talk, either.
Deciding it would still be okay if he asked one more question, he inquired, "You got a name?" The younger man faltered, as if pondering whether it would be a good idea to tell Jesse his name. After the question hung in the air a few seconds, he replied with, "Flynn." Jesse was considering telling him his own name when they heard the door swing open rather abruptly.
Flynn seemed to go completely still, and if Jesse had to guess, he'd say his mom had arrived. When he turned to get a look for himself, however, he found he was unable to even breath. It was as if his world had stopped turning, or as if life was ceasing to continue regularly and was alternately going in slow motion.
The familiar head of blonde hair first moved to the front desk, said something to someone who worked there, then turned to the bench at which Flynn and Jesse sat. Almost immediately, she stopped mid-walk, eyes locking on Jesse, as if her world had stopped turning, as well. In a few moments, she was able to snap out of it, and she averted her gaze and made her way over; keeping her eyes glued on her own feet as she walked. Jesse, frigidly, averted his gaze as well, all movements he made being extremely stiff. He once again focused on the same tile in front of him until blue heels took up the frame that was his view. He warily glanced up at her to see she was only staring at her son.
"Let's go." She said, voice emotionless and firm, "We'll talk in the car." Though she seemed hard on the outside, she was barely managing to keep her voice from trembling. She ached for a cigarette, and she lacked the knowledge of whether she wanted to scream at Jesse, or hug him for their mutual loss of Walter White.
Flynn reached for his crutches and pulled himself to his feet, and Jesse was just building up the courage to meet her eyes, though as soon as he tried she wouldn't allow it and kept her blue hues glued on her son. He just found his voice again when she ushered Flynn in front of her and walked off. So, he spoke the name quietly to himself, "Mrs. White."