<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">This Eliza was a feisty one that much was certain. It also became more and more clear that they had both made more assumptions about the other then either one liked. He was not happy about the not drinking all day long in front of her, that was not going to be easy to do. It had been long enough already as his hands had begun to shake. He chuckled slightly as she mentioned not sharing a bed with him, that was downright funny as a matter of fact, but he resisted the urge to just bust out laughing completely. Mark buckled up his seatbelt after climbing into the passenger side and setting his cane in between his legs. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"You cannot possibly expect me to just cold turkey the drinking lady, slow it down sure, but I need my beer. How about I milk them out, make them last a bit longer then I normally do and we can wean me off of it?"</span> <br/>
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He stared out the window as she drove, knowing she was heading for a grocery store. Not exactly his idea of a good time, but nonetheless he knew he would need more food with her around, and if this was going to work he would have to play nice a little bit. There was a time, it seemed so long ago, where he had a warm heart, where he was kind, and not this bitter cold hearted son of a bitch that sat on her right. It was in this moment that the first drops of rain began to fall, not like it was any surprise at all. This time around he decided not to be the silent monk and actually carry on a conversation with her. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"So how about this, you have assumed a lot of shit about me, I assume a lot of shit about you, let's just cut the shit, since clearly it drives you bat shit crazy and I am about two seconds from smacking that pretty little face with my cane."<br/>
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So maybe not the best way to put it, but he knew he got his point across. Mark didn't have the best tact recently when it came to speaking about sensitive topics, and this was a clear display. At least his mind was spoken, his point out there, and the ball in her court as far as that went. Though he did quickly add, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"also no, I don't really have anywhere I want to go, public outings are not really my style, this damn thing,"</span> he pointed to his knee even though she was driving,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "kind of makes it a challenge."</span> In that moment he wondered how much she knew about his injury. Did she know he could exercise it back into a near normal state that was nearly pain free and would make him walk like normal and not require the use of a cane? If she did he figured she would make him work for it, and in the long run it was likely to come up in the story.</span>