It just figures. Eduardo had almost expected as much, really, seeing Mark just sitting on the couch with his computer — because who needs a laptop around here, when there's no wifi to be had? — and having his initial suspicion confirmed, he can only think that it's just his luck. The only thing worse than Mark being on the island (a place he's actually managed to craft a life for himself, away from this and away from Facebook) that he can think of is having to be the one to explain the island to him, knowing full well how unbelievable it sounds and more than likely not having the patience to put up with him. Because, at the end of the day, he can't hate Mark, not outright, not enough to turn his back and leave him to whatever poor soul comes along next. Unlike his erstwhile best friend, it isn't so easy for him to just cut people out of his life, and regardless of how fucking furious he might be (and he is, there's no doubt about that), more than anything else, it hurts, looking at him and having to consider the fact that someone he trusted so wholeheartedly could really have betrayed him, that supposed settlement or not, Mark will never really relent, and in the end, he'll have come second to some lines of code and pixels on a screen.
"Great," he sighs, lifting his hand to his forehead as he tips his head back, eyes shut. He doesn't even have the first idea of where to start with this, his head too muddled by Mark's very presence to try to piece together a decent explanation. "Of course. This is just — This is perfect. Exactly what I needed." It's nothing of the sort, but even in speaking entirely to himself, he has no doubt that Mark will pick up on that much. There isn't, on his part, any attempt to veil the sarcasm. When he looks at Mark again, there's a weary sort of resignation to his gaze, though the set of his mouth still shows him to be displeased at best. "And let me guess, I'm the first person who's talked to you, right?"
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Date: 2011-05-15 05:48 am (UTC)"Great," he sighs, lifting his hand to his forehead as he tips his head back, eyes shut. He doesn't even have the first idea of where to start with this, his head too muddled by Mark's very presence to try to piece together a decent explanation. "Of course. This is just — This is perfect. Exactly what I needed." It's nothing of the sort, but even in speaking entirely to himself, he has no doubt that Mark will pick up on that much. There isn't, on his part, any attempt to veil the sarcasm. When he looks at Mark again, there's a weary sort of resignation to his gaze, though the set of his mouth still shows him to be displeased at best. "And let me guess, I'm the first person who's talked to you, right?"