He doesn't, though. Eduardo sort of hates it, but the fact of the matter is, he has no way of knowing that, doesn't really even think he believes it. No matter how much might have changed, been patched over, within the past couple of hours, the fact remains that he figured out a good four months ago that Mark's word can't necessarily be trusted, and when he can't think of a single other thing Mark could mean, it's hard to hear something like that and really fall for it. Besides, it isn't like he can't understand where Mark would be coming from. Hell, he's thought the same himself, how pathetic it must make him that he could really be okay with something like this, a place where his education, his interests, are virtually useless. But that was before, before he really got to see just how little would be left for him back home, before he fully came to the realization that he wanted to be wherever Olive was, before he found himself more content than he'd been in a long time. Given what he got in return, he can't bring himself to mind it too much.
Now, it just puts him at odds, the usual instinct to tell Mark that it doesn't matter because he'd have been right (of course he would have been, he's Mark) warring with the part of Eduardo that wants to defend himself, spell out a little more clearly how appealing this is when he had everything taken away from him at once. As ever, there's no way to win with Mark, even more so with the thought that underlies everything, the fact that he doesn't want to upset this tenuous peace. That means, too, that he can't outright say that he doesn't believe what Mark is telling him now (and God, he wishes he did, wishes it could be as easy as it once was, without all this deliberation).
"No?" he asks, trying his best not to sound confrontational. He thinks he manages, too. A fight — another one — is the last thing he wants; mostly, he's just tired, a little on edge, made uneasy by the turn of conversation. If anything, it would be more like reluctantly preparing for a fight than actively starting one, walls up and a heavy, sad look in his eyes. Mark wears him down like no other, but that's never kept him away. "What did you mean, then?"
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Date: 2011-06-16 06:52 am (UTC)Now, it just puts him at odds, the usual instinct to tell Mark that it doesn't matter because he'd have been right (of course he would have been, he's Mark) warring with the part of Eduardo that wants to defend himself, spell out a little more clearly how appealing this is when he had everything taken away from him at once. As ever, there's no way to win with Mark, even more so with the thought that underlies everything, the fact that he doesn't want to upset this tenuous peace. That means, too, that he can't outright say that he doesn't believe what Mark is telling him now (and God, he wishes he did, wishes it could be as easy as it once was, without all this deliberation).
"No?" he asks, trying his best not to sound confrontational. He thinks he manages, too. A fight — another one — is the last thing he wants; mostly, he's just tired, a little on edge, made uneasy by the turn of conversation. If anything, it would be more like reluctantly preparing for a fight than actively starting one, walls up and a heavy, sad look in his eyes. Mark wears him down like no other, but that's never kept him away. "What did you mean, then?"