"What I was saying, what it doesn't mean is you getting to ask me if I'm not going to have a beer with you like nothing's wrong," Eduardo clarifies pointedly, words slowed down and eyebrows raised, hands gesturing in front of him. It grates more than it typically would, not least because he does have every intention of having a beer with Mark, unconscionably stupid though he knows it makes him. The difference is, though, that it's at his own incentive, not any prompting from the person he used to consider like his brother. If he has to spell it out for Mark, all the reasons why this isn't okay, he has no trouble doing so. It isn't difficult in the slightest to recall how fucking angry he was (and, in all honesty, still is, though not with the same sort of fervor, time and space leaving it at something akin to a simmer), especially not when Mark apparently can't grasp it on his own, unsurprising though that much is.

Sighing, he lets his gaze wander briefly to the grapefruit before he looks Mark in the eyes again. "You were functionally my friend for several months and lying to me the entire time. I don't think functionally has much to do with anything. If I have a beer with you, it will be because I decide to, not because you expect as much." He shakes his head, tone lessening in intensity before he speaks again. Although he's trying, there's only so much he can do at once when this contradicts so many old instincts, ones threatening to rise back to the surface now that Mark is here. "I couldn't care less about a paper umbrella."