Mark blinks. Something isn't computing here. No matter how much time's passed, Mark knows one thing very well: that Eduardo isn't the type of person to try to hold something over a friend. Emotional blackmail is the opposite, in fact, of Eduardo's style— more often than not, Eduardo has a tendency of digging his own holes, of offering more than any single person should be made to offer, and feeling like it's the least that he should do. There's no way that Eduardo's trying to make Mark feel guilty for not immediately jumping at Eduardo's offer. Instead, it's Eduardo assuming the worst, that an ambivalent answer is a negative answer, while Mark knows that to him, it's the exact opposite. If he's against something, he'll voice it, and readily so. Insist that Eduardo need his rest, insist that Mark needs someone who'll give him an unbiased account of the island, insist that Mark needs some time to settle his head— all of these are excuses he could use, excuses that would be valid, but he hasn't. And their absence, it's supposed to mean something.
His brow furrows, wondering at this self-made observation. Is this just something he's never communicated before, that Eduardo's never noticed? Or are things so strewn that his best friend doesn't even dare apply rules that were once status quo, their own private way of communicating, that baffled guys and girls around them alike.
"That's not what I meant," Mark counters, the cadence of his words quick and precise. "I didn't mean that I don't want to hang out with you. I've had four years wandering Wardoless territory, the quota's far from met, I just figured maybe you'd be more comfortable handing me off to someone. If it's a choice in tour guides, I always said Hahvahd Tours would do well to hire someone who'd wear a tie instead of a fisherman's hat."
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Date: 2011-06-27 11:36 pm (UTC)His brow furrows, wondering at this self-made observation. Is this just something he's never communicated before, that Eduardo's never noticed? Or are things so strewn that his best friend doesn't even dare apply rules that were once status quo, their own private way of communicating, that baffled guys and girls around them alike.
"That's not what I meant," Mark counters, the cadence of his words quick and precise. "I didn't mean that I don't want to hang out with you. I've had four years wandering Wardoless territory, the quota's far from met, I just figured maybe you'd be more comfortable handing me off to someone. If it's a choice in tour guides, I always said Hahvahd Tours would do well to hire someone who'd wear a tie instead of a fisherman's hat."
He shrugs, then continues along the path.