Log: WALTER LANGOWSKI & JACK POWER BACKDATED TO ROUGHLY TWO WEEKS PAST: Jack and Walter make friendly on the front steps! Jack is stoned and Walter has donuts. Friends should be obvious. Walter is scared. There are some cops. Jack is scared. Walter gets a kling-on.
WALTER. Jack mentioned donuts the other night. Now Walter was craving them. He got a couple from the little coffee shop on the way home, completely forgetting their connection to Jack. He's only come across the little (pun intended) guy once or twice. Wasn't he friends with Jean-Paul? Maybe not, since Jean-Paul confirmed Walter was his only friend. Strangely proud of that. Then again, maybe it's not true anymore. Bah.
These are the things that went through Walter's brain as he slowly enjoyed a frosted chocolate donut. There was another donut sitting in wax paper near him, on the front steps of the hotel.
JACK. Was there really Tim Hortons in the US? Jack wanted to go to Canada anyway, he hears its nice with the food things, like poutine. He would like poutine. Deciding he would head out to the grocery store to get poutine ingredients, Jack nearly tripped over Walter in his green-state moments, high as a kite.
Only stoned people could like poutine.
Tripping over his own heels, he came to a sharp halt by Walt's head, mouth agape as he started to apologize then saw the delicious chocolate substance on the man's hand and changed tactic: "Can I have that?"
WALTER. It's like he's been woken from a deep sleep. Slowly, "What?" Then slightly panicked, "What, my--this?" The one in his hand? Moses, no! Walter quickly looks down to the extra donut he was saving. Crap. Crap!
His free hand grabs it and pulls it into his lap. He's a nice guy, but that was his chocolately delicious donut for later! A donut in both hands, he just looks at Jack, completely horrified.
JACK. Yes, yes your donut! Jack frowns and pouts, pointing down at the still uneaten one in Walt's hand. "Man you're not eating it can I have it please?" he rambled a bit, before popping his knees out and getting into a squat position next to Walt's arm. "Look, man, I'm hungry. Feed a hungry brother. Its your donut or I go to El Pollo Loco, and El Pollo Loco thinks I'm loco in the cabasa."
WALTER. Walter frowned at the donut that he had yet to eat. You had so much potential, donut friend. "Well. All right." He can't deny a hungry boy! Wax paper and baked good are passed from Walter's hands to the space in front of Jack. "Here."
JACK. It still has potential, just in Jack's belly. "Oh, really? Wow, you're awesome," Jack swoons, sitting down in Walt's personal bubble space and taking the offering gently. He sniffs the donut tentatively, glancing at Walter as he did so. "You sure?" Before he puts his tongue on it.
WALTER. "Go for it. You're not allergic to chocolate or coconut or wheat?" Because Walter doesn't want Jack seizureing about. He'd have to hoist him up and rush him to the hospital. Because Walter's noble like that. Jack being so close is ever-so-disconcerting. "Are you okay?" Besides being hungry and weird.
JACK. A furious head shake as he bites down onto the donut, tearing out a chunk and chewing like a rabid dinosaur. Or a hungry stegosaurus. He swallows like his mommy told him to do before talking, saving Walt from possibly being sprayed with crumbs. "I'm just dandy, why?" he's fine! Seriously! "But I smoked a fatty. You want some too?"
WALTER. Walter frowns. Stutters like a crappy vinyl record, "Uhhhhh, I, no, what? No. I can't. I mean, I'd rather not." Oh Walter, you might of well had just said I'm Trying To Quit. What a dork. "But thank you?"
JACK. "You sure?" Jack insists, really. He stuffs a bit more donut into his mouth and wipes off some donut crumb on his pants before feeling the top of his pant leg to see where he put the joint he rolled earlier. Its here somewhere. "I mean, it's just pot. Are you scared of pot?"
WALTER. "I'm sure." Walter can't help it, he's frowning. One finger to shove his glasses up his nose-- arrrgh he had donut residue on his hand. Wiping his hand on his pants and removing his glasses, Walter decides against giving Jack a reason. So there.
JACK. Bah humbug, Walter. Jack frowns and pushes his toe against Walt's giant foot. "Are you one of them?" You know, those anti-drug kids out there! "I mean, it's cool if you are, but think of it this way: doctor's wouldn't prescribe it if it wasn't beneficial, you know, Walt?"
WALTER. Walter sighs and sits up straight. "You're annoying." THERE. TAKE THAT.
JACK. "I... I am?" Jack sniffs, and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. He sounds like he's going to cry. "I'm sorry."
WALTER. Oh gee. Oh gee. "Nah, look, I'm sorry. I just ... you kept bugging me." If there is one thing Walter hates, is when people question his decisions. It's bad enough he had to take a stand on something in the first place, now you're going to make him defend it?! "You're all right. I gave you a donut, didn't I?" DON'T TELL JP.
JACK. Jack sniffs again before he sets the donut on his knee and clasps his hands together, leaning up against Walt. "I'm sorry, man. Look, let's go out and I'll buy us a bucket of KFC chicken to share. Yeah?" He tries to not suck and be annoying, Walt, but its hard. All he wanted was your company and your donut.
WALTER. Walter can't look Jack in the eye! "We'll go Dutch. If we're both eating it, I can pay my way." Sharing a bucket of chicken is like ... becoming blood brothers, is it not?
JACK. "Oh my gawd," Jack made googly eyes at Walter, "I love going Dutch! Their shoes are so awkward but comfortable!" He made a funny, yes. That's a funny. He grins, then pats Walt's arm before shoving the rest of the donut in his mouth in one fell swallow. "Let's do this." And become blood brothers over chicken and BBQ sauce and ranch and whatever else. "I like finger Ling Ling good food."
WALTER. "They have windmills too." Look, Walter's trying to make a funny, too! Walter stands and refrains from offering a hand out to Jack. He can do it himself! Geez, maybe Walter hangs around girls too much. Not that girls can't help themselves up-- okay shut up while you're ahead, Walter's Inner Monologue.
"Finger... who's Ling Ling?"
JACK. "And cute little girls!" Better known as hookers. Amsterdam, what what. Jack doesn't mind Walt not helping him; spry like a spider monkey, he pops up and dusts off his knees, then his bum, before freezing on the spot. Jack's head turns slowly and his eyes widen up. "... You don't know who Ling-Ling is? It's the Chinese KFC! Simpsons!" Jack looks like he's going to shake Walt's shoulders. He might.
WALTER. Walter freezes with Jack. If he's grabbed by the shoulders, SO BE IT. "I didn't know if you meant the Simpsons ... or perhaps the world famous panda." As delightful as the Simpsons were, the panda was more fascinating. It was given to the US as a sign of friendship!
JACK. He doesn't, but he comes dangerously close! "There's a famous panda?" Wait, how can this be? He's not sure if he's heard of this thing. This... famous panda. "I thought pandas ate people."
WALTER. "Only polar bears will hunt and kill a human." Random facts, ho!
JACK. "Really?!" Jack is amazed. He touches Walt's arm and is very serious, "Man, please never let me go to Alaska or Canada alone. Go with me. Polar bears would eat me. They wouldn't eat you."
WALTER. Walter cannot deny someone in need of protection from woodland creatures! "No, they wouldn't eat me." Most animals are scared of him in his sasquatch form. Except for that one time... Walter snaps out of it, "Why would you even go there anyway?"
JACK. Jack shrugs as he picks at a piece of skin on his finger. Ow ow ow, but it must come off. "Pot is free there." Er. "Well, you know, legal. And you only have to be 19 to drink." Canada is the shit, yo.
WALTER. "Yeah. I know about Canada." But he smiles just the same.
JACK. "You're Canadian, right?" Have they established this? Jack finds Canada fascinating. "I'm from Forks, Washington. You know, with Edward and Bella." Not his crabs.
WALTER. "I am." Walter considers wearing a nametag that says WALTER. CANADA. "Who're they?" Thinking hard for a moment, he tries to remember Jack's siblings' names. Certainly they're not Edward and Bella, right? Oh crap maybe they were.
JACK. He should get one. Or wear a ROOTS shirt. "Um. My crabs." Well, they are technically his crabs but they're also Twilight people. "You know. I have crabs."
WALTER. "Little crabs, right." Walter made a gesture, two hands held a few inches apart from each other. "Hermits, right?" With pretty shells? Walter has no idea.
JACK. "Yeah!" Jack is glad someone finally understood that he meant little crustaceans and not a sexually transmitted infection. That was getting old sometimes. Well, he enjoyed the teasing but not as much as he enjoyed playing with his crabs. "You should come by and see them. JP gave 'em to me as a gift." Something couples do! "Aurora rags on me about them but I think she likes big claws."
WALTER. "I would enjoy that, Jack." Crustaceans are kind of cute! Like big bugs. "JP gave them to you?" Why hasn't JP given him anything cool? And he passes on the comment about Aurora.
JACK. What's wrong with Aurora? "Thanks, Walter." He felt like they had to be all proper now. Like fancy people. Watch Jack smarten up and stand up tall---but not as tall as Walt. "He did! He likes giving me crabs, I guess."
WALTER. "All right, I get it." Geez, Jack, run a joke into the ground. Unless of course, Jack doesn't realize what he's saying? Walter certainly isn't going to tell him.
JACK. Jack shifts on his feet. "What?" He gets it, but he's so stoned that he has forgotten what he got. What? "Um. Do you still want fried chicken?" Thats something he remembers!
WALTER. "Always." Affirmative, Jack! "Shall we?"
JACK. "Beam me up Scotty!" HIGH-HO FRIED CHICKEN THEY WILL GO. "I like Star Trek." Random piece of information.
WALTER. There's a tiny gasp from Walter. "I love Star Trek." He topped you, there.
JACK. Walter could top anytime but that might crush Jack. "I love Zachary Quinto!" He actually kind of does.
WALTER. Quinto who the what? "Oh. Spock? Nimoy, man."
JACK. He frowns. "Sylar is the new Nimoy." It's truth. Jack holds up his right hand and gives Walter the V-fingers like Spock.
WALTER. "Nimoy is the only Nimoy" Don't make him whack you over the head with a copy of I Am Spock. He'll do it.
JACK. Jack huffs. "Fine. Spock is the new Sylar and Nimoy is the only Quinto." What?
WALTER. Walter smiles, "Fine." He likes that he just had this argument with Jack.
JACK. Jack likes that Walter likes geeky things and fried chicken. He's only one step away from liking pot. "But Kirk sucks."
WALTER. There's still time, Jack. Walter gasps, "What!" It's on now. Feeling brave, Walter reaches over and gently punches Jack in the shoulder.
JACK. What! "You!" Jack rocks back and then bounces forward back onto his toes. He and Walt are (almost) equal in height; he thinks he can take him. "You heard me."
WALTER. While Walter is bulky and strong, he lacks confidence to actually fight anyone. "Are you telling me like Jean-Luc Picard?"
JACK. "I so am!" He so isn't. Jack isn't sure how he does that. "Or maybe I'm telling you like Fett, in his 'vette."
WALTER. Walter has decided that stoners are interesting little creatures. Such as this one. He intends to study and confuse it as much as possible. "Uh huh. Oh hey, is that the cops?" No, it's not the cops.
JACK. "Cops? Where!" Jack ducks and grabs Walter's knees, hiding himself behind them. He likes that he can use him for coverage. "Make them go awaaaay," he whines and looks around his knees to see where the 5-0 went.
WALTER. "Heh." Walter shields his eyes with his hand, "Hrmm, I don't know. Looks like they're over there by the Seven-Eleven."
JACK. "Oh, slurpees? Are they getting slurpees?" He likes slurpees! Jack still clings to Walt, but slowly walks his hands up the back of his legs, clinging to his thighs. "Tell me when they're gone."
WALTER. Walter's getting tickled. He reaches back and pushes on Jack's forehead, trying to pry him off. "They're getting Slurpees and chips. I can't tell what kind of chips."
JACK. Chips? Jack feels the pushing but holds on and wraps his arms around his legs. "I want Fritos. Are they going for a yellow bag?" They can hold up the cops!
WALTER. "I think those are Funyuns. Yeah, they're getting Funyuns." Ahh! Walter doesn't like this. He lifts his leg, attempting to shake the Power kid.
JACK. "Oh my god, Funyuns." He liked those. They crisped in your mouth and then the crumbs out of the bag? Yum! Walt's shaking does nothing and he just holds harder. "I'm stuck on you, baby."
WALTER. "Okay, Jack, leggo. Seriously." Walter wiggled some more, "Look, I wanna go back to the hotel now." He's chickening out of chicken!
JACK. "No! you can't leave me! You're my Chewbacca and I'm Luke and I need to find my father!" Jack whines, but lets go of Walt's legs to sit on his bum on the cold pavement. It gets through his pants fast.
WALTER. Walter wonders if that makes Jean-Paul Han Solo. No no, because then Aurora would be Leia and that'd be just weird. "Let's just go home. I'll help you order a pizza." Because he's pretty sure Jack can't do it on his own like this.
JACK. Walt has said the magic words. Jack pops up like a grown man and grins. "I like pizza with mushrooms and pepperoni and green bell peppers and onions and olives and cheese," he says and sounds like an excited little kid. Because he is one.
WALTER. That sounds effing delicious, Walter agrees. "We can go halfsies on it." This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!