"Jesus, always with the fucking chicken," Eduardo sighs, exasperated, eyes closing briefly as he tips his head back. For a moment, he thinks, that one moment, things had been alright, the two of them in agreement. Maybe it had been over something simple, something that, in Eduardo's opinion, anyone sane should have agreed to, but it had been something, and he'd been grateful for that, a reason to believe that this isn't a mistake. Of course Mark has to go and bring the chicken into it, ruin any fleeting notions of the two of them making progress that Eduardo foolishly let himself buy into. At this rate, things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get any better, but that isn't really surprising, given the state in which he left. Whatever Mark's had to say about considering them friends, about business being a separate matter, it doesn't make half as much difference to Eduardo; he can't so easily let go of the past.
The mention of the chicken only makes it worse, bringing up memories far too vivid from their fight. Eduardo wants to ask, still unconvinced that Mark isn't the one who planted the story, but for now, he's calm enough to know better. He isn't going to be the one to start anything, at least not yet. "Mark, the chicken is irrelevant, you don't think that your mentioning the chicken might not also be some fucked up shit?"
Of course he doesn't. This is Mark Zuckerberg, and while Eduardo has been known to hope for — to expect — too much from him, this is one area where he won't delude himself. Shaking his head, he begins walking again, gesturing for Mark to join him. "There is a school, actually. I mean, there are no degrees, there's no way of standardizing any kind of system when people come from all sorts of places and times and universes, but there are classes, and good, smart teachers, who teach just because they want to. And no, just for the record, I highly doubt that feeding chicken to a chicken and not knowing that you couldn't do that would get a person sent to Hell, that would be absurd." How he's supposed to break the news to Mark now that he has the chicken here, keeps it like a pet in a pen in his yard in a surprising show of domesticity on his part, he hasn't the faintest fucking idea.
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The mention of the chicken only makes it worse, bringing up memories far too vivid from their fight. Eduardo wants to ask, still unconvinced that Mark isn't the one who planted the story, but for now, he's calm enough to know better. He isn't going to be the one to start anything, at least not yet. "Mark, the chicken is irrelevant, you don't think that your mentioning the chicken might not also be some fucked up shit?"
Of course he doesn't. This is Mark Zuckerberg, and while Eduardo has been known to hope for — to expect — too much from him, this is one area where he won't delude himself. Shaking his head, he begins walking again, gesturing for Mark to join him. "There is a school, actually. I mean, there are no degrees, there's no way of standardizing any kind of system when people come from all sorts of places and times and universes, but there are classes, and good, smart teachers, who teach just because they want to. And no, just for the record, I highly doubt that feeding chicken to a chicken and not knowing that you couldn't do that would get a person sent to Hell, that would be absurd." How he's supposed to break the news to Mark now that he has the chicken here, keeps it like a pet in a pen in his yard in a surprising show of domesticity on his part, he hasn't the faintest fucking idea.