[ Jesse follows Frank to the bathroom, stopping at the door, and - Jesus. Those burns. The gash on his hand. Jesse watches, detached and expressionless, and when Frank asks him about tape—
That snaps Jesse to focus. Tape. Disinfectant, too. What else? Something for that burn. What, though? Think, Pinkman, think. He backs away from the door, cogs turning over in his head, and moves across to the chest of drawers he hasn't yet actually looked through. He yanks the top drawer open. A couple of mismatched socks. That's it.
Slamming that drawer shut, he yanks open the next. More random personal effects once belonging to someone: A red toy car with a wheel missing, a few crayons, something that looks like an asthma puffer. He slams that drawer shut and crouches down to yank open the bottom on. Something heavy rolls inside it - a half-empty bottle of vodka, it turns out to be - disinfectant - which Jesse snatches up. A ratty, bunched up bandage. A couple of old packets of what appears to be gauze. Tweezers. A bottle of - Jesse plucks it up to read the faded label. Painkillers. This whole drawer was someone's homemade emergency first aid kit, by the look of it. Smart, whoever it was that lived in this room. Maybe it was the kid - their kid, perhaps? - that had the person thinking about necessities like this.
And - fuck, is that a pack of smokes at the back of the drawer? Jesse reaches in and fumbles for it, and sure enough - an old crumpled pack of smokes, with several still intact cigarettes inside it, by the look of it. That gets tossed on top of the chest of drawers, before he's grabbing out the other contents of the drawer: The bandage, the gauze, the painkillers. He carts all of it to the bathroom, where he sets it all down in a heaped jumble by the sink. ]
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That snaps Jesse to focus. Tape. Disinfectant, too. What else? Something for that burn. What, though? Think, Pinkman, think. He backs away from the door, cogs turning over in his head, and moves across to the chest of drawers he hasn't yet actually looked through. He yanks the top drawer open. A couple of mismatched socks. That's it.
Slamming that drawer shut, he yanks open the next. More random personal effects once belonging to someone: A red toy car with a wheel missing, a few crayons, something that looks like an asthma puffer. He slams that drawer shut and crouches down to yank open the bottom on. Something heavy rolls inside it - a half-empty bottle of vodka, it turns out to be - disinfectant - which Jesse snatches up. A ratty, bunched up bandage. A couple of old packets of what appears to be gauze. Tweezers. A bottle of - Jesse plucks it up to read the faded label. Painkillers. This whole drawer was someone's homemade emergency first aid kit, by the look of it. Smart, whoever it was that lived in this room. Maybe it was the kid - their kid, perhaps? - that had the person thinking about necessities like this.
And - fuck, is that a pack of smokes at the back of the drawer? Jesse reaches in and fumbles for it, and sure enough - an old crumpled pack of smokes, with several still intact cigarettes inside it, by the look of it. That gets tossed on top of the chest of drawers, before he's grabbing out the other contents of the drawer: The bandage, the gauze, the painkillers. He carts all of it to the bathroom, where he sets it all down in a heaped jumble by the sink. ]