A/N: I'm sorry if Roger and Marky are a bit OOC, but I'm tired and I just told my cat to go sniff a lampshade. Get ready, this'll probably suck.

****

"Mark, go get some milk."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm lazy."
"But you're never lazy!"
"Well, today I am."
"But I need milk! I need it, Mark! You don't understand my deeply rooted psychological need for milk!"
"Um… no. Sorry, Roger."
"Mark, just go get some fucking milk…"
"No."
"I'll tell Maureen what really happened at that Christmas party two years ago…"
"… Fine, fine, I'm going."

****

Mark pulled his coat closer to his body as he walked along the city streets. He'd decided not to take his bike. He couldn't leave it outside; someone would take it, and he didn't feel like lugging his bike plus a carton of milk plus the bag with his camera in it. Fine. If Roger wanted some milk, he'd get some, because he really didn't want to get fussed over by Maureen. That would just piss Joanne off.

Ugh. Where wasthat convenience store? He hadn't been to it much. When Collins still lived with them, he'd always need beer and cereal and shit all the time, so he'd made the grocery runs. Now Roger needed stuff all the time, but Mark could usually convince him to get whatever it was himself. Mark sighed. Maybe he'd passed it? Oh, nevermind… there was the little gray building with a sign proclaiming that the Mini-Mart was indeed open.

The bell above the door jingled as Mark stepped out of the frigid morning air. He unzipped his coat and made his way over to the milk, grabbing some Cap'n Crunch as well. Scrutinizing the milk prices, he grabbed a carton of two percent and hoped Roger wasn't too picky about it. Most milk tasted the same to Mark anyway.

The clerk on duty didn't do much to brighten Mark's morning. Violet (according to her name tag) merely did her minimum job requirements: scan items, say the price.
"That comes to $3.52, sir," she said listlessly. Mark pulled out his wallet, hoping for a five but coming up with four ones. Oh well. She gave him his forty-eight cents and he walked out the door again.

Mark instantly regretted not zipping his coat back up, so he did that. It was much easier to find the way home, so he made it there quickly, within five minutes of leaving the store. Thankfully, climbing seven flights of stairs warmed him up, so he wasn't freezing when he reached the loft (after waving to Mimi on the sixth floor). Roger was still sprawled on the couch.

"Didja get my milk?"
"Yeah. Got some cereal, too."
"We already have cereal."
"I bought some more, then."
"Thanks."
"No problem. What did you need the milk for, anyway?"
"Nothing. I think ours went bad."

Mark walked over to the fridge, got the milk out, and sniffed it.

"What are you talking about?! This milk is still good!"
"You never asked me why I needed milk before."
"You told me you did!"
"Oh, yeah. Gimme the cereal, too."
"Roger, you're hopeless."
"That may be, Mark, that may be. But you're stuck with my hopelessness too."
"… Have I ever mentioned that I feel sorry for Mimi?"