you don't have to say what you did; I already know, I found out from him
This dinner comes as the direct result of momentary insanity on Annie's part. (Perhaps impulsiveness is a better term for it, but where she's concerned, the two often go hand in hand.) She is, for the most part, a realistic girl, one who had no expectations of winning much at all during Casino Night, let alone enough to partake in the auction. As luck would have it, however, she came out on top more often than not, the previous days spent reading up in the rec room truly paying off, and she had headed to the auction with hopes of snatching a few small goods here and there. She was well on her way, too, bidding on this lesson and that, when she came across the dinner date with Facebook's CEO and without a moment's thought staked every last chip on that single offering. Even then, Annie hasn't expected to win - had this occurred back in the real world, she wouldn't have had a shot - but Tabula Rasa works in mysterious ways, including its apparent disregard for all things Facebook. Once announced as winner, it took a grand total of half a second for the regret and anxiety to kick in.
Now standing before the steps into the Winchester on the night of, Annie is no more calm than she was when it first sunk in that she would be having dinner with the Mark Zuckerberg. She feels conflicted to say the least: on one hand, this is an opportunity like none other, but on the other, Eduardo has been a great friend to her and every decent thought she has about Mark feels like another small betrayal. Of course, it's Mark who should be feeling guilty, Mark who did the actual betraying, and she has every intention of standing her ground and calling him out on those events at dinner tonight. But then, Eduardo did tell her to play nice, and spitting out accusation after accusation before the first course is hardly decent behavior. Still, Annie steels herself at the door, working up the nerve to strut right up and demand an explanation from the man himself.
That nerve lasts as long as it takes to reach the table, but rather than sit down, Annie stands frozen in place, sucking in a sharp breath. "You're Mark Zuckerberg," she whispers meekly, wide-eyed.
Now standing before the steps into the Winchester on the night of, Annie is no more calm than she was when it first sunk in that she would be having dinner with the Mark Zuckerberg. She feels conflicted to say the least: on one hand, this is an opportunity like none other, but on the other, Eduardo has been a great friend to her and every decent thought she has about Mark feels like another small betrayal. Of course, it's Mark who should be feeling guilty, Mark who did the actual betraying, and she has every intention of standing her ground and calling him out on those events at dinner tonight. But then, Eduardo did tell her to play nice, and spitting out accusation after accusation before the first course is hardly decent behavior. Still, Annie steels herself at the door, working up the nerve to strut right up and demand an explanation from the man himself.
That nerve lasts as long as it takes to reach the table, but rather than sit down, Annie stands frozen in place, sucking in a sharp breath. "You're Mark Zuckerberg," she whispers meekly, wide-eyed.