Even without as much of a right to complain (a right that's always been rather hard to quantify, given that true complaints can never be limited to a time frame nor prevented from tumbling out of an earnest man's lips), Mark can't help but look upward in frustration at being caught in the volley, once again, of Eduardo's many inner voices. Some of them are most likely telling him to ditch Mark right now, because there's no way that Mark's going to come up with anything to redeem himself in the face of the months and months of deceit, lies, asshole behavior, etcetera. Some of them are probably believing in love, in loyalty. And then there's that one voice that Mark hates more than any of the others, because it's self-righteous, the one that is trying to rise above the rabble, the rabble that now includes one Mark Zuckerberg, the populace that generally fucks each other over and thinks nothing of aged notions like loyalty, chivalry. It's part of the Wardo package that Mark admittedly thinks is better to have by his side than to face against, but above many things, Mark also prizes honesty. And there's something about Eduardo putting up with Mark for the sake of principle (or, for a while, Sean as well by extension) that always feels duplicitous.
At least Mark has never tried to pass himself off as a good guy.
(God, but Mark also hates the way that the slight break in Wardo's voice gets to him. It does. Deeper than anyone probably thinks possible for a jerk like Mark, but really, the only saving grace for that image is the fact that Mark's emotions rarely surface in ways that people can read. Only one person in that deposition room seemed to catch it at all.)
"It's on me," he says tersely, shrugging off the hoodie that's a bit too warm now and draping it over his back. Because what else is he supposed to say?
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Date: 2011-05-15 07:52 am (UTC)At least Mark has never tried to pass himself off as a good guy.
(God, but Mark also hates the way that the slight break in Wardo's voice gets to him. It does. Deeper than anyone probably thinks possible for a jerk like Mark, but really, the only saving grace for that image is the fact that Mark's emotions rarely surface in ways that people can read. Only one person in that deposition room seemed to catch it at all.)
"It's on me," he says tersely, shrugging off the hoodie that's a bit too warm now and draping it over his back. Because what else is he supposed to say?