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...Oh. Right. He has made a bit of a mess, hasn't he. Wade casts a glance around the room, silently taking in the utter chaos before returning his gaze to Jesse's with an awkward chuckle.

"...Uh. Yeah. Guess I got a little carried away, didn't I? Don't worry, I'll clean up afterwards. Just... kinda gotta find what I'm looking for first, yeah?"

There's a certain sick desperation in his laugh this time.

Now his curiosity's getting the best of him along with a certain amount of concern. He drifts over to where Wade is standing, watching him, but not too carefully, lest he give off the impression that he knows something is up.

"You'll find it faster with someone helpin' you look."

Hint hint.

....Shit. Wade swallows convulsively-- this was exactly what he was afraid of ever since Jesse walked into the room to see what was wrong. Panic stirs at his stomach. No matter what, Jesse can't find out. He waves him away with forced nonchalance, making a show of bending down to look under the bed so that he doesn't have to look at Jesse's face.

"Nah, I'll be fine. I'm the only one who knows what I'm lookin' for, anyway. Shouldn't be too hard to find it-- I've got a few places in mind after this. Thanks for offerin', though."

Why would he not want anyone else to know what he was looking for? Jesse silently picks through the possible explanations and folds his arms over his chest. Normally, after receiving such a blatant tell, he'd back off and let Wade tend to his private business.

It's just that...

Hiding stuff, wanting to keep it secret, desperate to find it when it goes missing to the point of tearing up the room? Red flags for a relapsing addict's behavior.

"Uh huh. So this stuff nobody else can help you find, or know about-- how many glasses do ya think you'll have when you get it back?"

It's as though all the blood in his body has turned to ice. His heart bounces up somewhere inside his throat, and in a complete reflexive reaction, Wade jerks his head up to look at Jesse and thumps his head a damn good one on the underside of the bed.

"Wha-- ow! Fuck!"

He rises to his feet, clutching his head, where he has no doubt there'll be a pretty nasty goose egg for the next few minutes or so. He can't really fault Jesse for coming to this conclusion-- how could he? Jesse had only recently dragged Wade up from rock bottom, and that sort of addiction didn't just go away within a few days of someone finding out about it. Wade can feel the thirst even now-- faint but monstrously potent, like the first few days before a full-blown attack of the flu. His tongue darts out to lick his lips-- a nervous habit-- as he thinks of the bottle hidden underneath the floorboards; that seductive ambrosia that calls to him even now.

Wade's voice is conciliatory; contrite.

"Listen, I know this looks incredibly sketch right now, but it's not what you think, I swear! I just--"

He breaks off before he can reveal anything more. "There's just... something that I really need to find right now. That's all."

What a weird role reversal situation for Jesse, stone cold sober and slinging accusations. The only thing preventing him from being in Wade's position is that his poison of choice is no longer available to him.

While he understands, he can't let Wade do this to himself again, not when he just got him back. If that makes him a hypocrite, and a selfish one at that, fuck it. He'll be a selfish hypocrite. He frowns at Wade when he rises up (that thunk on the head had to hurt) and tacks on the same spiel.

"C'mon, man, I used to run this game all the time. Gimme a little credit. You think I don't know exactly what withdrawal feels like?"

A challenging step closer.

"When you do find the last of it, you better toss it."

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