you don't have to say what you did; I already know, I found out from him

[psychoenough]

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

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[zuckered]

I'm not gonna lie. There was a part of me that felt vindicated when I learned that the person who had won the dinner with me was a friend of Wardo's. Vindication might be a funny thing to feel under such circumstances (why would I be vindicated? I'm not a stickler about gambling), but it's the only accurate description. And when he told me to play nice, a part of me was tempted to do anything but, because I never consciously agreed to all of this in the first place.

However, strangely, I listen. Wardo forces a decent shirt on me, although I argue my way out of slacks and a tie, because the island is still humidity central. Then suddenly, I'm ready to go out on a "date."Knowing that the girl who won a dinner with him is a close friend of Wardo's is enough cause for initial concern for Mark. He's heard the explanation from Wardo before, that upon arriving to the island, he was upset. Had just lived through their final personal altercation, before they brought in lawyers, before years passed, and so turned to friends for support. If

[psychoenough]

Mark Zuckerberg just said her name. He said her name aloud, it came from his lips for all to hear (that there are only so many people within hearing distance is not of importance). For a terrifying moment, Annie thinks she might faint where she stands. Would he catch her? Then not only would Mark Zuckerberg have said her name out loud, but he would have caught her when she fainted as well. But she remains standing, thankfully, breathing deeply and slowly becoming more and more aware of the fact that she must look like a deep caught in the headlights

[zuckered]

Facing a myriad of responses from fans and haters alike isn't new to Mark Zuckerberg. What started off as a couple of pretty shrewd groupies- truly, they climbed on that bandwagon pretty early, and had the girls been more compatible with either Mark or Wardo, who knows where they'd be today- quickly blossomed to practically an entire culture, with people inventing applications for facebook, trying to secure themselves the next big hit. Mark could remember certain applications being especially popular. The Honesty Box, for one, which was more or less just a way for people to anonymously send messages to their facebook friends, meant to be used for confessions or other such things. (To Mark, it felt a little high school- but then again, what college student didn't yearn for things from high school, now and again?) Mark's used to receiving angry letters about the lack of privacy on facebook (although really, how stupid can people get, when the settings say that they default to all of one's friends seeing photos, why does it surprise them

[psychoenough]

Confused, Annie's eyes widen, her expression one of sheer panic. In the back of her mind, a stronger, less impressionable version of her begs to stop with the flattery, to take a seat and embark on the intended interrogation, but 99.9% of her is still halted in shock. The moment extends, as such moments are wont to do, drawing out that sense of alarm until she knows of no option but to turn and run. He speaks again just in time, and she crumples into her seat quietly. Beginning to feel dizzy and lightheaded, only then does Annie realize she still hasn't stopped to breath, and promptly inhales a great gust of oxygen

[zuckered]

If this is how the rest of the night is going to go, Mark has the feeling it's going to be quite the doozy. It looks, to Mark, like Annie has to figure out every single step of what she does, consciously making the effort to take a breath, consciously making the effort to meet his gaze, all these actions that should be the work of the subconscious brain. They're things that the human body sets aside and puts on autopilot, just so that the rest of them can focus on deepening relationships and taking learning to the next level. Well, he's not sure that he can rewire her brain to make everything work, but what he can do is at least help the date along. Already in the background, he can see people raising their brows at the odd couple right in the middle of the dining space, wondering whether or not to bring their appetizers out. (Yes, Mark's ordered appetizers. He's not going to gyp someone entirely of what a date is supposed to entail

[psychoenough]

Guys like it when girls laugh at their jokes. That is, at least, what popular culture has led Annie to believe. Drawing on her own life experiences yields poor examples: she was essentially a beard to her high school boyfriend; Vaughn, bless his heart, was too happy-go-lucky to provide reliable results; Jeff Winger is Jeff Winger. This may not be a date date, but if he did her the courtesy of pulling out her chair, she can at least laugh at his joke, which, in her opinion, was genuinely funny. And laugh she does, if a bit too loudly, initially making a sound closer to a nervous hiccup. Then she clears her throat once more, crossing one leg over the other as she pulls her chair closer

[zuckered]

It's... nice when she laughs at the joke. Kind of. Mostly. On its own, the fact that she can react to such a joke isn't in of itself impressive to Mark, because even people who don't work internally with computers probably know about bytes (that's the good thing about storage, it teaches people these sorts of terms). But she laughs, and Mark notes that it's in spite of being Wardo's good friend, and maybe that makes it more valuable somehow. Nervous edge and all.

Loping back around to his side of the table, Mark plops himself down in his seat, his posture straight as a board. "Wardo kind of put me up for auction," he corrects, keeping his tone light enough so that she knows, if Mark really needed someone to drag him tooth and nail to this date, that he wouldn't be here right now. Right now, he just doesn't want too much credit. "Was kind of late to take it down by the time I realized. Didn't win enough chips to place the winning bet. But it's not a big deal

[psychoenough]

The unexpectedly wry part of Annie's brain - which never surfaces when needed and is almost always inconveniently timed - is sorely tempted to direct Mark to her Facebook profile. Were these normal circumstances, she might lack the self control to keep from doing so, but as there is no Facebook here, she gulps back the answer. Unfortunately, that doesn't get her out of answering full stop, which presents an impossible dilemma: How to make herself sound impressive to the world's youngest billionaire

[zuckered]

He pauses after her self-introduction (or rather, more like lack of). Being from Colorado means nothing to him. The island being the most exciting part of her life also means very little, given the nature of the island itself. And so Mark feels that in the first few minutes, he's learned practically nothing about this Annie character- it forces him to look elsewhere. Quickly, his gaze scans over the young woman, over her outfit and her expression. (She's got a very distinct sense of style, at least.)

"Not true," he says first. "Everyone has something special about them. There's something that makes you Annie Edison. And I don't think that's Colorado." He takes a bite of his bread, slight impatience fraying his nerves before he takes a swallow of water.

"And you know who I am. Pretty sure my name wasn't up on the auction list. Just my role at facebook," he adds. There's no tone of superiority in his voice; everything's offered as a pure statement of fact.

[psychoenough]

There is indeed something that makes her Annie Edison. Quite a few somethings, truth be told, most of which molded the personality dubbed Little Annie Adderall in her senior year of high school. Some might find her story interesting, even exciting, but Annie has been doing her best to leave it behind for the past two years. Greendale was going to be her fresh start and now Tabula Rasa is her blank slate. Despite everything she claims to hate about the island, that blank slate has proved invaluable, even with Jeff and Britta already privy to all of her dark secrets. She loves the study group and everyone in it, even at their worst, but Annie never felt accepted by her own age group until she came here. As awestruck as she is with Mark, she doesn't trust him not to judge her, doesn't trust him at all

[zuckered]

"My point is that it's uneven. You know more about me than I do about you," Mark shrugs, and if she's less than pleased with him, he's not sure that he'll be able to really pinpoint why. Nor is he sure that it really matters. This is just a date, a one-time thing that Annie Edison's bid on for some reason or another and won. They don't need to go on a second, this doesn't need to become anything more, and he's certainly not expecting to find himself in a position of needing to court Annie. He can be exactly who he is, doesn't need to give more thought to anything than he sees fit, and while he does find her to be a curious figure, Mark Zuckerberg doesn't prostrate himself in front of anyone much. Especially not anymore

[psychoenough]

For a moment, Annie actually considers telling the truth. Telling some of her truths, at least, which goes to show just how intimidating it is to hold a conversation with Mark. As a rule, she tries not to judge anyone too quickly these days - the study group taught her the dangers of doing so - but she doesn't always go through with the many, many things she intends.

"Oh, that is so false! If they didn't before, they certainly would after that Time cover," Annie points out immediately. She then gasps, her lips frozen in an open circle when she realizes too late that she may have just spoiled Mark's own future for him. "Wait, when are you from?"

[zuckered]

Mark's eyes narrow immediately after the slip. Time cover. It isn't hard at all to imagine what Annie might be referring to, nor is it even completely surprising. If there's anything that can be said for Time magazine's Person of the Year awards these past years, it's that nowadays, it's the footprint rather than the person who's being judged. Ultimately, Mark Zuckerberg doesn't have to be some immense genius with unparalleled intellect. He doesn't have to be anyting remotely close. All that Mark needs is to have helped spawn a product whose influence stretches over country borders, or has somehow changed the world as a whole, and Mark knows that he's done that. (The design of facebook is simple, but its effect on networking is undeniable.)

"Before the Time cover," he replies shortly, not seeing what point there is to giving the time down to the day. "But if you noticed, Time subscriptions don't always make it over here."

[psychoenough]

In fact, Annie has yet to experience the supposed horrors of the bookshelf and jukebox for herself. (Okay, so there was that one week where it would only stock her favorite books in Spanish, as if she needed of reminding of the year-long foreign language education that was anything but. Apart from that, the mystical objects in the rec room have generally been kind to her.) Perhaps it can sense that she is perpetually on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and although staving off a full-fledged freakout seems against the island's general wishes for the populace, she isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She can, however, see why the shelf would be less than gracious toward Mark; he doesn't exactly possess her delightful disposition.

"Okay, so from your perspective, the whole world doesn't know who are yet," concedes Annie. "But you're a public figure, I'm not! And frankly, if you're concerned with privacy, the invention of Facebook may have been counterproductive."

[zuckered]

It's a difficult task to avoid rolling his eyes, but Mark does allow himself a pinch at the bridge of his nose again, where he feels something like a sinus headache starting to pick away at his skull. He's not sure what kind of point the two of them are trying to arrive at. What they're driving towards. It's possible that she's only bid on this lunch to give him a lecture, a wag of her finger and a furrow of her brow, all in defense of one Eduardo Saverin. It's possible. But if that was the case, right now there's enough of an ineffectual air to her gripes and complaints that instead of feeling like he's targeted or under close scrutiny, Mark just feels like she's being the equivalent of a bee buzzing around his ears. Something that one might vaguely want to swat at.

(He doesn't, of course, but if there's a way he might be able to change this dynamic for the better, that's what he plans on trying for.)

"The invention of the search engine did away with our previous notion of privacy, so if you want to blame anyone, you can blame

[psychoenough]

"Oh."

Deep down, Annie suspected this to be the case, but she would not allow herself to believe it, afraid of getting carried away with her own thoughts. It makes her even more nervous than before, if possible, now not only hoping to make herself sound impressive but also under the impression that Mark possesses some actual interest in what she has to say. Even here, she would think he could find better uses for his time, and the fact that Eduardo pushed him into this dinner should only make him less inclined to comport himself.

Now, before her lies the impossible task of saying something, anything, to sate Mark Zuckerberg's curiosity. It's only the knowledge that he is close with Eduardo, with whom Annie has generally been honest, that keeps her from dissolving into a series of grand lies. Telling the truth isn't her only option, but it is the best. Besides, why should she be trying to impress him anyway? He's just some guy with seemingly misplaced loyalties whose website just happened to be popular