There's still something vaguely — no, really, incredibly — unsettling about this, the turns of conversation that should be so easy, so relaxed, but aren't. It feels as if they're copying themselves, mimicking what once used to be natural, playing roles successfully without actually managing to get lost in them, the difference between the real and the façade evident, at least to Eduardo. He's all too aware of it in himself, the way his stomach twists at such a simple question even as he puts on a smile that's entirely for Mark's benefit. Because, at the end of the day, that's what he does, not altered so wholly by his once best friend's betrayal that he won't be driven by the same instincts. Now that he's gone ahead with a change in subject, it feels disingenuous, like he isn't quite being fair to himself or getting what he deserves, but he also knows Mark Zuckerberg. He knows Mark Zuckerberg better than, he would say, probably anyone, and knows that already Mark has done more than his comfortableness would typically allow. He could do better, he's certain of it, but Mark is here. Eduardo won't turn his back on him, or put him on the spot to make him squirm just for the sake of some self-gratification. Maybe Mark would deserve it, maybe it's what would be doing himself justice, but it would also be cruel. A lawsuit is one thing. A conversation on an island that shouldn't exist is another.

"I'm pretty sure they have burgers, yeah," he answers, chin lifting in lieu of a nod, before he gestures down the path and starts in that direction, glancing in Mark's direction to ensure that he gets the hint to join him. "Probably depends on who's cooking. Are you alright, carrying all of that?"