Eduardo can't help being grateful, almost overwhelmingly so, that if Mark notices the skepticism, he doesn't mention it. However much might still be fucked up between them (and there's a lot, to be sure, issues left unresolved, certainly at least a few things left unsaid), he doesn't want to be the one to make it worse, even when he can't keep his own reactions in check. The idea of finally being enough for Mark only in a place like this still hurts, but he can at least say that he's dealt with far worse. He'd rather take this than be the one cast aside again, the one so unimportant that all he merits is months of secrecy and lies. Maybe they'll never repair what's been broken, but he won't pull the pieces apart while they're waiting to see if or how well the glue will hold when it dries, if it will at all. He hasn't quite decided yet whether or not he really wants it to.
"...Bluntly but well put," he says, brows furrowing even he grins. Mark never has been one to mince words, so that much, at least, is unsurprising. Of course, it's probably a little wrong that talking about a strip club can be more comfortable than talking about their friendship (what's left of it), but he'll take it, small talk even about this place's more sordid aspects preferable to a fight. Eduardo isn't a psychiatrist, but he's pretty sure Mark's hit the nail on the head with this one. "I don't even get where someone would come up with an idea like that around here. It's all... The whole damn place is backwards." Even they're backwards, a fact that's become increasingly apparent since Eduardo first found Mark in the rec room, the two of them stiltedly avoiding major subjects where once they used to be nothing but natural, another thing that Eduardo wants to point to in defense of why they were ever friends to begin with. It should be obvious, everything should, but it isn't, and that might just be what he hates the most.
The Winchester comes into view just ahead, though, and Eduardo gestures in its direction. "And here we are. The free restaurant."
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"...Bluntly but well put," he says, brows furrowing even he grins. Mark never has been one to mince words, so that much, at least, is unsurprising. Of course, it's probably a little wrong that talking about a strip club can be more comfortable than talking about their friendship (what's left of it), but he'll take it, small talk even about this place's more sordid aspects preferable to a fight. Eduardo isn't a psychiatrist, but he's pretty sure Mark's hit the nail on the head with this one. "I don't even get where someone would come up with an idea like that around here. It's all... The whole damn place is backwards." Even they're backwards, a fact that's become increasingly apparent since Eduardo first found Mark in the rec room, the two of them stiltedly avoiding major subjects where once they used to be nothing but natural, another thing that Eduardo wants to point to in defense of why they were ever friends to begin with. It should be obvious, everything should, but it isn't, and that might just be what he hates the most.
The Winchester comes into view just ahead, though, and Eduardo gestures in its direction. "And here we are. The free restaurant."