Mark
Mark did not like the idea Marijuana had placed in his mind. He didn’t think Harvey would do anything untoward to Thomas, but the thought was there and now it would bother him for the next seventy-two hours-- because that’s how long they would need to give Thomas before either of them tried to make contact. At least seventy-two hours, probably more.
“We wait,” Mark said, his voice low. He couldn’t look at Glibt, not now. “Malcolm and I do this... a lot. We wait.” He wanted to do far more to Harvey Milk, but none of that could be said in front of Glibt. “He’s our son. If Johnny and I can get over a century of-- he’ll be fine. You’re going to have to apologise though. You crossed a line.”
And so had he, but that wasn’t something Mark was comfortable talking about or admitting just yet. Marijuana’s violation was far more obvious. “As for Bret... this only proves that I was right. He’s not someone I want knowing about us.”