Even though the Winklevii have given Mark more trouble than practically anyone else he knows, he doesn't hate them. On most days, he thinks them amusing more than anything else, a pair of handsome gorillas with a fair bit less hair but probably twice the amount of chest thumping. That's why he's able to smile. More significant for a guy like him than laughing would have been. If it weren't for the distance that time's put between him and the Winklevii, the time that still makes its mark in spite of the way that everything's attempted to come back to the surface, he'd probably be irritated. But now, it's just amusing. The looks on their faces. The way they blew up like a pair of pufferfish. Made doubly enjoyable, honestly, because Wardo was there to help him through it all, no matter how much he must have resented then, in spite of the exasperation Eduardo showed whenever Mark grew a bit sharp-tongued.

He shrugs.

"You were supposed to be telling the truth," he states, belaboring the obvious, tone never more direct than when he was noting facts. "And the truth was that Tyler and Cameron Winklevoss just wanted to parade around their elite status in the hopes that a few more girls would hop on the bandwagon, and when they realized that I could do not only that, but even more, affect the entire world with the creation of facebook, they grew bitter. Frustrated. I beat them at their own sort of game, without even thinking of it in that context at all."

Blinking, Mark tilts his head, before taking a greater swig of beer. "You see that. I'm sure you see that."