"How are you feeling, Jesse?" The Father, Matias, scooted a straight backed, roughly made, thick wooden chair next to Jesse's bed. It looked as old and worn as one Jesus might have carved himself, and not as expertly made. He had pulled it out from his little, child-sized desk in the corner of his office/bedroom that had about a hundred books stacked on it, many with soft, flexible, pleather covers that had that old, cheese and crackers smell of church bibles.

"Oh, you like this chair?" Father Matias couldn't help follow Jesse's gaze. Jesse was focusing on odd things, but his wide pupils told the Father that he was still under various medicinal influences. "A student of ours made it for me. It fits me perfectly, though it looks terrible and harsh, and was lovingly made. It's now worn in all the right places, and I'm never giving it up." He smiled. "It also reminds me plenty of our hopes for our students. Time and effort has made it perfect, and beautiful. But back to you. You're feeling a little better?"

Jesse took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. He wanted to appear at least a little sober to the kind Father, or that he was trying to be. They had not gotten heavily into the blue yet, the joints seemed to be doing a pretty good job and he asked Yael, guiltily, to get more. He didn't know how long he had been in a happy, or happier, haze. He pondered the question.

"Thank you for everything you've done, Father Matt… Matt…"

"Matias, but Matt is pretty good too." He reached over and unfolded the soft wrap around Jesse's right arm. The skin underneath looked less angry, there were no blue lines and the stitching was all still in place. The fingers were bent into claws, though, and that was worrisome, among everything else. He moved his hands down to them, wanted to see how inflexible the fingers were, and Jesse instinctively pulled his arms back, very frightened. Even that small movement hurt.

"Ok, I'll stop poking around. Just wanted to look." He lightly patted Jesse's shoulder. "No one wants to upset you here. I said I would just do up to whatever you asked for. Are you hungry?"

Ah, food. Jesse's stomach started rumbling at the thought and in answer. Before, when he was hurting so bad, the idea of food only made him nauseous. Now, he definitely had the munchies.

"Yes, Father, please." Jesse looked at him strangely, as if he thought he might be laughed at, teased at his request. He wasn't smiling in anticipation of an offered meal. Unfortunately, Matias had seen this look before, in abused children much younger, often hit when expressing a need. Jesse was still a little high, his usual defenses lowered, so he was reacting out of some instinct and, sadly, experiences he was used to. Matias looked at Jesse's facial scars again, took in a breath.

"Aw, you don't have to be So… polite, Jesse. You're not used to being around clergy, are you? Yael was the same way. He would get very suspicious when people were nice to him." Matias grinned. "On the other hand, when people are polite to me, I Know it means they want something." He got up slowly, making sure he didn't accidently jostle the bed. "I think you just want food. I'll see what's doing in the kitchen. You never know what mess is going on in there. That's why they call it The Mess. I'll be able to round up something edible."

"Where's Yael, Father?"

"Oh, I thought You knew? Don't you have him running around on errands out there?" Jesse was silent. The priest frowned. "Some of this is okay, Jesse, but I don't like how you're encouraging him into the life. I know he'll do it anyway, but he doesn't need your help in it. Be very careful with him. He's taken to you, and…" Matias paused. He didn't want to sound old school in all this, and that wasn't really the reason. He ended his remonstration awkwardly. "You just don't know anything about him."

"Tell me about him, Father? Please?" There was that submissive, pleading look again. Where did he pick that up? Matias didn't want to know, though he would listen in confidence. There were a lot of things he had heard and rather not have known.

"I don't know that much about him, Jesse, only fragments of things he half remembers. I've been guessing, though it's been 5 years. His unusual, very traditional name, for example. His background is very religious, I think, very strict. Would you have guessed that?" Matias smiled slightly. Jesse shook his head slowly. "I would guess he was very well educated, private, religious classes along with public, maybe. Sometimes he'll pop out unfamiliar phrases and long words I have to look up. When he first got here, he was so young, and still carried a folded up yarmulke. I don't know if his family kicked him out or if he just ran away. I think he ran from far away. I don't know when the drug use started, but that's pretty typical. He's been miserable a long, long time and I don't want you adding to that." Jesse was quiet again. Matias looked at him. He didn't know why he was so disconcerted over this pairing, at the shelter all this was a matter of course, almost expected, but something in him said this was just too dangerous. "Alright, enough of my old man lectures, time for more important things. Food."

The Father came back fairly quickly with a generous serving of spiced mash potatoes, piping hot, with bits of carrots and peas and beef mixed in. It gently swam in gravy and butter. "Hmm, I think they call this Sheppard's Pie. Don't ask too many questions. If it starts to get too rich for you, I'll see what else we have lurking back there. It seems soft enough for a first meal?"

He nodded and Matias helped him slide up against the wooden headboard so he could sit while he ate. Distracted, Jesse had been looking out the bedroom's windows at jeweled, purple and gray-gold hummingbirds flashing from flowered bushes planted just outside the panes. Their heads were going into the trumpet shaped, juicy, red flowers and sometimes he could see their tiny tongues, they seemed almost as long as their bodies, still licking as they emerged again.

"Yes, mesmerizing, aren't they? Those are some of their favorite flowers, and they sometimes swarm here when they migrate these warm months. It's a good reminder to just look around sometimes in the middle of everything, of all your problems. A breather. But here, this mess is cooling off. It's probably better when it's hot."

The Father scooped up a spoonful of fragrant mash, dipping it quickly in a bit of gravy, and held it up toward Jesse. Though he disparaged the food, he knew it was quite tasty, and hoped the poor boy wouldn't be disappointed. He needed the warming sustenance in his stomach, and even more he needed to know that people could still care about him, could still prepare something good for him. That was part of the look that was bothering the priest, that Jesse was giving up, that after what looked a very long journey he just couldn't make it over the last steps. Sometimes the last steps seemed miles long.

Jesse flinched back. At the hospital, they had given him an intravenous drip. Yael didn't have enough time back at that house to scrounge up junk food. Jesse had been too nauseous to eat for the last couple days. Though running on a very empty stomach, in fact, starving, his mind remembered that he hadn't been spoon fed since… Todd.

Matias pulled back, saw Jesse's sudden distraught.

A wild look came over Pinkman.

"It's okay, Jesse. Jesse? I'm not going to… hurt you?"

The Father barely scrambled out of his chair in time to avoid being savagely bit.