[His parents have said many things over the years, but they're both dead and thankfully not around to see what a mess he's become. Poor Mr. and Mrs. McGill don't need to know what he's made of himself, and he doesn't need to imagine how disappointed they'd be that he stayed being fuck-up Slippin' Jimmy and nothing like Chuck, even after passing the bar and everything.

So instead, he focuses on the other part of her reply. Sure, he was going to go lay low, to pretend he was someone else entirely and that Saul Goodman and Jimmy McGill never existed. Albuquerque? What's that, he was supposed to say. But this is a fresh start without the disappearing to nowhere, Nebraska, and he figures there's not much harm in sharing his more well-known name. Especially not when he's planning to open a new branch here for the sake of gathering information.]

Let's not disrespect used car salesmen now. There's an art to their trade; making sales is hard work.

[he could absolutely have been a used car salesman, though, and imagine how much better Albuquerque would've been for it.]

Believe it or not, I was one of the most well-known lawyers in my city back home. Thinking about opening a branch here, actually, though I'll have to figure out the whole bar association deal and how that applies in... wherever we are.