He had poured himself out to her, it was a lot to do, hard after all these years to talk about wounds that had never really healed. He had just covered them up, hid them, and forgot all about them. So talking to Eliza brought emotions forward in Mark's mind that he was not used to. It was hard to fight back the tears, to keep his throat from swelling up with sobs, really that was all he wanted to do, but he tried to keep the tough exterior. When Eliza asked him about any family he didn't say a word, he just shook his head no, his eyes drooped a little bit. The question made the sadness harder to fight off, he just wanted to wallow in self pity, and there was almost nothing he wouldn't do for a drink right about now, including diving for the beer that had ended up in the lake. Still he remained seated, his hands shaking as he almost dropped the drink in his hand.<br/><br/>As her next questions came toward him he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. He was not used to showing this much emotion, and it was having an effect on him, greatly. His voice cracked a little as he responded. "You want to make friends with me? Pardon me if I am not at least a tiny bit suspicious of that." Mark was not gullible in that respect, reporters were notorious for playing nice and then once they had their story they dropped you on their ass. He had seen it happen to others when he was still playing, when things were going just fine for him. Now he was the one in the position of having a story to tell, though after this long he didn't expect anyone would want it anymore. He was shocked to say the least, and the fact that they sent a reporter with zero sports experience surprised him even more. "As far as a shirt goes, sure you can borrow one, but I thought I saw you bring a bag on board on one of your trips, don't you have something in there?"<br/><br/>It answered her question, in that regard he didn't mind at all. She was more than welcome to one of his t-shirts, he couldn't imagine her wanting to wear one, but at the same time he refused to argue at this point. Many of them likely smelled of beer, even after having been washed, he had spent plenty of time spilling from time to time, though there were a couple of old jerseys hanging up in the corner of his closet. Slowly, and with his hands still shaking Mark brought the drink to his lips and took another sip. It didn't quite do the trick, not nearly the same as he had hoped for. He wanted beer, or alcohol of any kind right about now really. He was not used to going this long. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, back to the question about friends and family. No family, that much was easy to know, as far as friends went he had maybe one and that was his accountant, the one person he trusted with his money, the one person who made sure he could make his payments and still afford to drink himself into oblivion. So far it worked just fine, this snoopy ass reporter though was threatening his lifestyle. He hoped she got her story, was satisfied, then left him the hell alone.