Yes. Yes, four fucking years, Mark wants to say, even if he's still not really sure what's to blame for that lengthy stretch of time. Well. Of course Mark himself is, to an extent, but he never wanted a lawsuit, he never wanted to fight and bicker and have to recount only dozens of times every single little step that the two of them have taken together. Mark and Wardo, they've had their share of disagreements over the years, Wardo usually more than willing to give way to Mark rather than cause a fuss, and then occasionally standing up for himself when the line's really pushed too far. But it's always been contained. Just the two of them. Maybe it's because they were still growing at that point, didn't have the resources to really hurl at each other and cause ripples that stretched farther than their fingertips. Either way, though, it's been a change in pattern and that only made Mark more bitter, until he realized at the end that what he felt wasn't so much bitter as it was tired. An exercise in futility. Wanting to grab out in any way but doing so with acerbic remarks instead.
Oops.
What he wants to say is, we should get a drink after. You know. After those four years. Maybe hope that there's enough under the bridge to get it built again at all. But this isn't that Wardo, making Mark worry for the first time... are they trying to stretch too far?
After all, Mark isn't the same person now that he was right after Eduardo smashed his laptop against his desk. Some days, though, he feels like he may as well be, not having grown a great deal in Wardo's absence.
Who knows. Point is, it's not getting them anywhere today.
"Four years, yes, but it's a lawsuit, what do you expect," Mark says quietly, quickly, like he's trying to rip off that band-aid. "Well, two lawsuits, actually, the Winklevii also put up a fight and you were— you were there for that too. So what do you mean, there isn't a whole lot of choice? No tailored suits, I can understand that, but I'd rather not be wearing one single hoodie for the rest of my time here, it'd wear out very quick." He doesn't mention how he knows this, just glad that he isn't currently wearing the North Face fleece.
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Oops.
What he wants to say is, we should get a drink after. You know. After those four years. Maybe hope that there's enough under the bridge to get it built again at all. But this isn't that Wardo, making Mark worry for the first time... are they trying to stretch too far?
After all, Mark isn't the same person now that he was right after Eduardo smashed his laptop against his desk. Some days, though, he feels like he may as well be, not having grown a great deal in Wardo's absence.
Who knows. Point is, it's not getting them anywhere today.
"Four years, yes, but it's a lawsuit, what do you expect," Mark says quietly, quickly, like he's trying to rip off that band-aid. "Well, two lawsuits, actually, the Winklevii also put up a fight and you were— you were there for that too. So what do you mean, there isn't a whole lot of choice? No tailored suits, I can understand that, but I'd rather not be wearing one single hoodie for the rest of my time here, it'd wear out very quick." He doesn't mention how he knows this, just glad that he isn't currently wearing the North Face fleece.