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He nods gratefully.

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"Okay..."

He mentally reviews the exchange. Something becomes obvious. He's not sure if it's the right thing.

"You didn't just mean talking about yourself," he guesses. "You meant - the things that you think of to say, in general, weird people out. You weird people out. Am I on the right track? And have I mentioned recently that you have a depressing life?"
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"Yes. And not recently, no. Thanks for the reminder," he says dryly.

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"I usually fall back on compliments. In normal social situations, I mean, with normal people."

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"Yes," says Mark. "I did figure that one out. The 'drop one nice comment and run' strategy is effective as far as it goes."

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"If you run it doesn't really get you anywhere. I'd suggest that you need to get laid, but..."

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"It gets me to having had a small positive effect on someone. But do go on about how I need to get laid."

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Ivan opens his mouth.

Ivan closes his mouth.

Ivan looks at Mark out of the corner of his eye.

Ivan says, "I don't think I will, come to think of it, no sir."
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"...What," says Miles.

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"NOTHING," squeaks Ivan.

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"What," says Miles.

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"Nothing," says Mark, conspicuously not looking at anyone in the room. But perhaps particularly not looking at Stalas.

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"Just - leave it, Miles."

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Unfortunately, Miles is decently good at interpreting Mark's line of sight.

"Oh my God, Mark."
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Mark folds his arms on the table in front of him and burrows his head into them despairingly.

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"...Am I going to regret finding out what's going on?" wonders Stalas.

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"Probably," opines Ivan.

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...Stalas looks at Mark.



"Oh," he says.
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Mark lifts his head from his despair-puddle and turns and stares.

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"—Hey!" says Stalas. "You're knowing things at me, aren't you!"

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"I am missing something and this state of affairs disagrees with me, but from the collective facial expressions in the room I'm not sure it disagrees with me less than ceasing to miss something."

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Mark throws up his hands. "Fine! I want to fuck Stalas!" he says. "Now we're all on the same page!"

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