2:43 AM on a SATURDAY MORNING

[DENNIS, tipsy after drinking an immeasurable amount of tequila with the spray-tanned BLONDE on his arm, chuckles at his own joke as he saunters backward into the APARTMENT. Flipping the light switch upward, he matches the smile on the woman's face at the thought of another glorious soon-to-be sexual conquest. On his way to his bedroom, though, his heel hits something hard and having as much alcohol as he does in system, he falls backward onto the sleeping form of MAC below him, earning a low roan and a half-asleep attempt at throwing DENNIS off by rolling around on the floor lazily.]

MAC: [rubs his eyes, frustrated] What the shit, dude?

DENNIS: [flustered and slurring his words] I should ask you the same goddamn thing! What the hell are you doing on the floor?

MAC: I must've rolled off the couch or something. Why does it matter? [he says from the floor, curled inward and gently massaging his sore side]

DENNIS: Because you shouldn't be sleeping on the floor! Not only is it going to give you back pain which you'll complain about endlessly, but you're drooling all over the hardwood!

MAC: Well, God! I'm sorry, then, ok? [his voice breaks on the last word, making DENNIS cringe]

DENNIS: You're not gonna start blubbering now, right? Jesus Christ, Mac. At least act like man.

BLONDE: [feeling ignored and uncomfortable at the sudden argument] Hey Dennis, I think I'm just gonna call a cab . . .

DENNIS: What? No, Abby, common' let's just—

BLONDE: [crosses her arms and straightens her back, clearly pissed] My name's Brittany, prick.

DENNIS: Look, Brittany— It's an easy mistake to make. How about we—

MAC: No, no. You know what, Den? I'm sick of this shit! [stands up forcefully, swinging slightly due to the alcohol, then puts his finger right on DENNIS' chest] I'm sick of you treating me like some boy toy that you can just throw away when you get bored!

DENNIS: You're still on about that? [he mumbles, looking down with disgust at the finger jabbing at his sternum]

MAC: [stands silently for a moment, staring straight at DENNIS, before lowering his hand and clocking DENNIS right in the jaw]

BLONDE: [covers her mouth in shock with both hands] That's it. I'm leaving! [exits]

DENNIS: [holding his aching jaw in his palm, practically screaming in rage] Goddammit, Mac! God-fucking-dammit! You always ruin everything!

MAC: [laughs weakly for a second] That's fucking rich coming from you. [his voice is muffled by the lump in his throat and the tears he'd been trying to hold back] You treat me like shit, then expect me to treat you like the God you think you are?

[MAC stomps off toward his room, stopping for a second only to grab the half-empty bottle of vodka lying sideways on the coffee table, and slams the bedroom door behind him]

DENNIS: [still screaming, fists balled] You know what? Fine! You'll come crawling back to me in the morning like you always do! You're fucking obsessed with me and you can't ignore it! [he trudges off to his own room and locks the door before grumbling to himself and sliding down against it, pulling his knees toward his chest and burying his chin in his crossed arms]