Breaking Bad

Better Call Saul 6×11

Jimmy: Whatever this is, can we please, don't do it in the desert? Anywhere but the desert!

Jimmy: This, we can... we can fix this. Whatever the problemo, we can fix it with dinero. Mucho dinero. Mucho, mucho, mucho dinero.

Francesca: Narca?
Thunder: Yeah. "Narca." The feminine version of "narco."

Francesca: How hot?
Jimmy: Yeah.
Francesca: Well... I still get followed. Not as often as when the shit first hit the fan, but I still see them. My mail gets opened. My phone at home clicks whenever I use it.
Jimmy: So the maestro buying the farm, it didn't change anything?
Francesca: No. If anything, it made it worse. Skyler White got her deal. So the only ones left to go after are you and Pinkman. And I heard they found his car down by the border, so, adios, dopehead.
Jimmy: Oh, so they're still into me. Well...

Francesca: Uh, remember Bill Oakley? He switched sides.
Jimmy: He came out, huh?
Francesca: No, he's not gay! He's a defense attorney now.

Jimmy: Okay, so, if you cook the blue stuff, then that means you're Igor and... And that makes you... You're Heisenberg. Wow.

Jesse Pinkman: You gotta give it some gas when you're backing up.
Walter White: I gave it the proper amount of gas.
Jesse Pinkman: I guess that's why we're moving, then.
Walter White: Look, it just was idling too long. It'll start.
Jesse Pinkman: Oh, you should a just let me drive, yo.
Walter White: Look, nothing would be different in this moment except you panicking and flooding the engine.
Jesse Pinkman: Bullshit.

Walter White: We just need to sit a moment. That's all. When it idles too long, the fuel pump overheats, and so we just need to let it cool down.

Jesse Pinkman: So. Who's Lalo?
Jimmy: Who?
Jesse Pinkman: Lalo. You thought some dude named Lalo sent us. You seemed pretty freaked out. Never heard of no Lalo on the street.
Jimmy: It's nobody.

Jimmy: Hello? You're on the clock, right? So give with the info anytime.
Mike: When you're done.
Jimmy: No, I can multitask, please.
Mike: I'm not gonna talk to you while you're on... whatever that is.
Jimmy: You know, LBJ used to have his underlings give him reports while he was on the shitter.
Mike: Uh-huh. Well, either I'm gonna leave, or I'm gonna put my foot in your skull.

Jimmy: Second story guy, second story guy. I got... I got more second story guys in my book than pimples at a Junior prom. What about, uh, that Heisenberg fella?
Mike: High school chemistry teacher.
Jimmy: You're shittin' me. Really?
Mike: Walter Hartwell White. Chemistry teacher over at JP Wynne. Working with a former student, current meth head, one Jesse Pinkman.

Mike: Now, listen, even if this guy was gonna live, I wouldn't go near him. He's a complete amateur.
Jimmy: Well, you see an amateur. I see... 170 pounds of clay ready to be molded.
Mike: Well, if the cancer doesn't get him, it'll be the cops or a bullet to the head.
Jimmy: Is that your appraisal or is that what "He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named" says about him?
Mike: He doesn't say anything. The guy's small potatoes.

Jimmy: I just... I got a feeling about this. This Heisenberg guy's got something. It's top of the line product, that's the buzz on the street, and I just think, with the right management...
Mike: You know, years ago, I bought a Betamax. Good product. "Top of the line." Experts said it was better than a VHS. Turned out to be a complete waste of time and money. Hmm? Let it go.
Jimmy: Guy with that mustache probably doesn't make a lot of good life choices. So, yeah, uh, the second story guy. Uh, Menard, you said?

Jimmy: So? A guy with cancer can't be an asshole? Believe me, I speak from experience.

Jimmy: It'll be fine. Relax...

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