Jesse owes him something, for sure. But for now, he takes a long drag off of the cigarette and sighs, content, closing his eyes. Just to take it in.

And then he's handed the pencil. There's something sort of forming in his mind, and he curls up on the couch, idly sketching at the pad for a few moments, pausing to smoke every few moments. It's not productive for a while, but then he starts to get going, stops drawing birds along the lines and circles Pinkman's drawn and starts on a person.

It's rough, at first, but as he goes, it starts to look more and more like Pinkman. Sharp features, shaved head, but - not his normal clothes. With a mask, and a costume, and oversized hands, like those foam fingers at baseball games.