If the use of the familiar nickname grates, Eduardo barely lets on as much, eyes closing in a momentary cringe before he pulls himself together. That one small thing is inconsequential, after all, compared to the fact that Mark is actually here. For about a fraction of a second, it had been almost nice to see him, but that passed quickly, leaving him nothing but frustrated, too exhausted to want to deal with this, with him. It's always been a little difficult, the way Mark says things seemingly out of nowhere, related only to what's going on in his own mind, but Eduardo could manage when they were friends, shrugged it off easily; now, it's downright infuriating, less because Mark is so indecipherable than because he can't decipher it. Not much of a distinction, maybe, but an important one all the same.
(At the very least, it means he won't have to worry about Mark somehow coming from his past. With all the talk of people showing up from different times and places, the notion has occurred to him before, that Mark could arrive having no idea what went down between them. The legal talk speaks for itself, though, and that much is a small comfort, a refreshing change from the way he'd been for those few minutes at Harvard, whether real or imaginary.)
"You'll —" he starts, meaning to echo him, but cuts himself off with a mirthless laugh, instead, running his hand through his hair, expression undeniably puzzled. For now, he stands his ground. He isn't sure how long that will remain the case. He can't be sure of anything, really, except the fact that Mark is here and from his future, actually sitting in front of him like nothing's wrong at all, when in reality, it's all been turned on its head. Eduardo wouldn't even be surprised if all the air had been sucked out of the room for how difficult it suddenly is to breathe, to speak, though he has no intention of letting on as much. He can do this; he has to. That doesn't make it any easier. "Jesus, Mark, how long have you been here?"
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Date: 2011-05-15 05:12 am (UTC)(At the very least, it means he won't have to worry about Mark somehow coming from his past. With all the talk of people showing up from different times and places, the notion has occurred to him before, that Mark could arrive having no idea what went down between them. The legal talk speaks for itself, though, and that much is a small comfort, a refreshing change from the way he'd been for those few minutes at Harvard, whether real or imaginary.)
"You'll —" he starts, meaning to echo him, but cuts himself off with a mirthless laugh, instead, running his hand through his hair, expression undeniably puzzled. For now, he stands his ground. He isn't sure how long that will remain the case. He can't be sure of anything, really, except the fact that Mark is here and from his future, actually sitting in front of him like nothing's wrong at all, when in reality, it's all been turned on its head. Eduardo wouldn't even be surprised if all the air had been sucked out of the room for how difficult it suddenly is to breathe, to speak, though he has no intention of letting on as much. He can do this; he has to. That doesn't make it any easier. "Jesus, Mark, how long have you been here?"