It isn't the first time that Eduardo has been grateful for a change of subject. The thing is — and even he can't make sense of it, not really — for all that he spent the first couple months here wanting desperately to go home specifically for that reason, to follow through on his promise to sue, it's something else entirely to have to hear about it, not least because it was never ideal anyway. He isn't acquainted with his future self, but the way he sees it, the right word from Mark would have been enough to end any legal issues. That, apparently, never came. (It has now, though, hasn't it?) All he gets instead is Mark's account of what happened, and torn between curiosity over what happened, what they talked about in the aforementioned detail, and not wanting to have to think about it, a topic to move on to, to focus on instead, is welcome. Besides, it means Mark can't be quite so stuck on it either, and that, that, is indisputably good for them.
"Yeah, I was... gonna get to that," he says, frowning slightly, though it's an expression that doesn't look especially upset. He's not, just thoughtful and a little uncertain. "Erica's here, showed up a couple weeks ago. She's from early, too, earlier than me, back when w— when thefacebook was only at one school. That night in the restaurant." Casual though he keeps the stammer, he hates it, too, that he's so conscious of everything now that he can't use we in lieu of the website itself when it came so easily before. Things have changed, though, and even if it would have been accurate in that it was theirs then, just him and Mark, it hurts too much to say. Whatever Mark said about restoring his name to the masthead, he can't pretend like he really matters to Facebook or has the right to act like he does.
He needs to say something else, to stop himself from thinking about it, so he adds, almost as an afterthought, "There's also, um, a guy who looks really scarily like you. It's not all that unusual around here, people who look like other people, but you just, you know, might want to look out for that."
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"Yeah, I was... gonna get to that," he says, frowning slightly, though it's an expression that doesn't look especially upset. He's not, just thoughtful and a little uncertain. "Erica's here, showed up a couple weeks ago. She's from early, too, earlier than me, back when w— when thefacebook was only at one school. That night in the restaurant." Casual though he keeps the stammer, he hates it, too, that he's so conscious of everything now that he can't use we in lieu of the website itself when it came so easily before. Things have changed, though, and even if it would have been accurate in that it was theirs then, just him and Mark, it hurts too much to say. Whatever Mark said about restoring his name to the masthead, he can't pretend like he really matters to Facebook or has the right to act like he does.
He needs to say something else, to stop himself from thinking about it, so he adds, almost as an afterthought, "There's also, um, a guy who looks really scarily like you. It's not all that unusual around here, people who look like other people, but you just, you know, might want to look out for that."