Heisenberg looked down at the neatly peeled orange before him and moved on to the next one, quirking his brows in bafflement as he easily skinned it just as easily as the first one. He glanced at Tartaglia again, clearly on the verge of asking if this was some sort of bid to make Heisenberg feel better about something... except no. The kid looked semi-embarrassed, so it had to be true.
"We all have special gifts." Heisenberg sing-songed as the stinging stench of vodka started to clog up his nostrils. He absently pawed at his face in abrupt, harsh movements that did nothing to abate the alcoholic burn in the air.
He watched as Tartaglia definitely stumbled closer, making a soft sound of annoyed amusement. Maybe it was normal for people to drink this much - Heisenberg wasn't one who would know - but he couldn't help but find the subtle changes in the kid mildly stress-inducing. He was still Tartaglia, obviously, but he was just different enough to make Heisenberg feel vaguely on edge.
Still, he took the bag of chocolate without a fuss, and didn't really question what the kid told him to do, even though it seemed fucking weird. "If this is a fucking trick..." Heisenberg warned as he tossed some chocolate bits into his mouth, followed by a wedge of orange.
He chewed patiently.
Then he had a religious awakening.
"What the fuck." Heisenberg hastily did it again, and again, and again, until he had burned through two of the three oranges and half the chocolate bits. He smacked his lips and started peeling the last orange with abject enthusiasm. "This is the best thing." He was mostly muttering to himself as opposed to Tartaglia. "The best thing. What the fuck. Why didn't I know about oranges."