Tuco's head rocked sideways, the edge of his jaw touching his shoulder. His eyes had narrowed a little like he was reevaluating—like he'd just now realized that there was more behind that crooked smile than in those that he himself would often deploy. Shifting his head back again, he hummed softly. Casually.

"That's half more than a lot of the bastards across town." He punctuated by reaching down to pick up a second bottle, this one somehow intact. He gave it a little wiggle, sloshing the yellow liquid inside. "There are two kinds of people in this world, my friend: those who think they found a bottle of something beautiful, and those who see a jar full of piss." He was grinning now. "Tell me: What do you see, Rojo?"