Who: Glibt and Mark. What: A Talk. Where: Brownstone 2.0 When: Saturday, late evening. Warnings: Possible language, alcohol use, discussion of homophobia, racism, and slavery.
Glibt's trip to Hawaii wasn't exactly a vacation. He had left very early on Thursday morning and had arrived during the evening, barely having enough time to settle in and call Thomas before Media had convinced him to go out and find something entertaining to do. 'Something entertaining' had ended up giving him a hangover the next morning, but Glibt had simply spread out on the beach, soaked in the rays of the sun, and tried not to think too hard about anything in particular. Then it was a matter of squeezing in an hour of consulting on the lawsuit before the dolphin swim that Media had strongly suggested he partake in before he had collapsed into bed Friday night, slightly sunburned. And he hadn't really wanted to get back on a plane on Saturday morning - he wasn't near calm enough to deal with Mark and their issues just yet - but Glenn Beck was holding his... thing and Glibt had seen a commercial for the Emmys that were taking place on Sunday night. Yes, he had thought to himself, he had to head back to New York City early and just hope that he had let enough anger bleed away from him to be able to handle a conversation with Mark in a rational, calm manner. He wasn't very optimistic about that, however.
The trip back to New York City made him wish that he'd been able to use Mark's private jet for this trip, although it would have been rather hypocritical of him to be so angry at Mark and then use Mark's plane to get away from him. Still, ten hours on a plane made even a god who prided himself on his even temper - and sometimes had to leave the continental States to make sure his temperament remained that way - slightly cranky and he didn't want to seek Mark out right away, right when he entered their brownstone. As he set his bag down next to their bed, noting the tux laid out over the comforter, Glibt tilted his head slightly; another Issue had been in the house he shared with Mark, the house he'd rented and turned into a home for them. He could feel her, Layla had been there, and it made his stomach twist into knots as he slipped into the shower - Layla had been in the shower? - letting the water beat down over tanned skin and tense muscles as he organized his thoughts. The flirting, he could let go. Mark saying the n-word upset him on principle, but that was not his fight to have with Mark, that was Layla's fight and she seemed to have already had it, if her lingering immortal presence was anything to go by. No, the thing that had made Glibt so angry was the homophobic slur on Mark's show; Glibt had forgiven a lot of personal slights from Mark, such as the way his fiance had kept his marriage to Ate a secret from him, but this was more than personal. It was an insult against his people.
Sighing as he stepped out of the shower, Glibt dried himself off before slipping into a sweatshirt and plaid pajama bottoms. And then it was just a matter of taking two bottles of beer from the fridge in the kitchen and padding slowly down the hallway to Mark's study. Leaning against the door frame momentarily, there was a second when Glibt looked utterly exhausted; he'd been going nonstop for months, had celebrated the Proposition 8 verdict only to have the Ninth Circuit stay the ruling, had gone through the mentally exhausting task of telling Paul about the gods and had done his best to forget the fact that he'd seen one of Harvey's scars for the first time... he didn't really want to fight with Mark, not after all of that. Glibt shook himself mentally, a serene look taking over for the exhaustion as he slipped into Mark's study, intent on having a discussion, not a fight. He set one of the bottles down on Mark's desk; it wasn't an apology, it was merely one of those things Glibt liked to do for Mark, making him coffee in the morning, picking out his ties, always making sure their fridge was stocked with beer, always making sure there was something to eat when Mark came home from work, whether it was take out or home cooked. Glibt reasoned with himself; if he still wanted to do those things for Mark, all was not lost, not just yet. But, shaking himself out of his thoughts, he slid into one of the arm chairs, opening his own beer and taking a long drink before he spoke. "What are you working on?"